


Opening Walls

by Toppbanana



Series: Opening Walls Verse [1]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anastasia AU, Dreams and Nightmares, F/M, Fluffy UST, Huddling For Warmth, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Non-Graphic Violence, Near Death Experiences, Non-graphic mentions of past injuries, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Waltzing, dreamt character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-04-07 12:32:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 35,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4263381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toppbanana/pseuds/Toppbanana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a time, not very long ago, when people lived in an enchanted world of elegant palaces and grand parties. But this was not to last. After a curse is placed on Gallifrey’s royal family, their entire world comes crashing down. Only one member manages to escape that horrible night: Grand Duke Wilfred. Years go by, as do rumours, and perhaps another member may be still alive, and orphan John Smith bears a striking resemblance to the missing Prince Theta. (Based on the 1997 film Anastasia)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [greatspacedustbin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/greatspacedustbin/gifts).



> Happy birthday, Neeke! You are so delightful, and I'm so happy to call you my friend!

People waltzed and mingled through a ballroom in glittering gowns and sharp suits, all looking like tropical birds from far away lands. Among them, a young boy of thirteen, with tousled chestnut hair and checks dusted with freckles, gazed dreamily out a window at the twinkling stars above.

“Theta,” a tall, severe faced man said. “It isn’t proper manners for a prince to sneak away from his people.”

“But the stars are perfect tonight! Look, you can actually see Jupiter tonight!” Prince Theta’s voice was filled with infections awe. The tall man before him still seemed to be unaffected.

“Prince Theta,” the man warned sternly.

“Yes, Papa…” Theta sighed. The king stroked his son’s hair affectionately, attempting to make it lay flat.

“Now go whirl some girl into a stupor,” the king gave Theta a little shove towards the dancing masses. He smiled fondly as his son fumbled around looking for a dance partner.

King Rassilon was the imperial ruler of Gallifrey, and tonight they were celebrating the three-hundredth anniversary of their family’s rule.

“He’s so fascinated with those stars,” an elderly man in regal military regalia and snow-white hair whispered to Rassilon. “It’s a wonder how he’s not among them yet.”

“Not for lack of trying,” the king smirked as he watched Theta ask his mother to dance. “He takes after his grandfather.”

“None of those stars will ever burn as brightly as that boy,” the older man grinned as the song came to an end with a flourish. The prince’s ears must have been burning, because he looked up at that instant, his face alight with joy.

Theta bowed politely to his mother before barrelling off towards the men.

“Grandpapa Wilf!” Theta cheered gleefully, wrapping his arms around the older man’s waist. “I thought you had to return to London?”

“And miss this grand celebration? Never!”

“Does this mean you’re staying for good this time?”

“Afraid not, m’boy. That seat I haven in London comes with the title of Grand Duke,” Theta’s grandfather said sadly. His grandson looked crestfallen. “But to make the separation a bit more bearable, I have something very special for you.” Theta’s chocolate eyes lit up at the sight of a beautiful blue box.

“For me? What is it?” he gasped. His fingers reached out and delicately caressed the box.

Unnoticed behind them, a small blonde haired girl a few years younger than the prince, peeked around a door hidden in the wall. Her eyes sparkled in the candlelight as she watched the scene between grandfather and grandson unfold. Her expression was one of rapt curiosity, and maybe even longing.

“Rose! You belong in the kitchen,” a beefy man in a dirty apron growled at the girl. He roughly grabbed her by the hair and tugged.

“Ow! Let go of me!” she choked as she was quickly dragged back through the door.

Theta’s grandfather pulled a handsome silver fob watch from his pocket and placed it into a small hole at the top of the box, unlocking it with a soft click. Theta’s jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw the contents.

“It’s your telescope!” Theta trailed his fingers along the handheld silver tube that sat on a bed of plush gold velvet.

“Now whenever you get lonesome, you can look towards the stars with that and know I’m looking at the same ones,” Grandfather Wilf handed Theta the silver watch.

“’ _Beneath the stars of London_ ’” Theta read the ancient circular writing on the watch. “Oh, Grandpapa! Do you mean it?” he squeaked in delight once he understood what he had read. He launched into his grandfather’s arms and embraced him.

But they would never stand beneath the stars of London. For a dark cloud was about to smother their happiness.

A collective gasp echoed through the hall. The silence followed only seemed to heighten the sound of slow, deliberate steps of hooded man approaching the royal family. Someone dropped a crystal goblet in his path. He simply crunched the shattered remains beneath his boot as if it were a sign of what he was about to do to the kingdom.

“How dare you return to this palace, Davros,” King Rassilon said in a low, threatening voice. As if on cue, the robed man dropped his hood to reveal the aged face of Davros. His skin was dark and spotted, and appeared to hang loosely off his skull. He didn’t even appear to be human. Theta shrunk behind his grandfather at the sight of him.

“But I am your confidant! Nothing but a simple holy man,” Davros laughed. It was a harsh and sickening sound that made everyone of Theta’s hairs stand on end.

“Confidant? You’re mad and power hungry! You’re nothing but a traitor, now GET OUT!” the king thundered.

“You think you can banish me?” Davros taunted dangerously. “By the unholy power vested in me I banish _you_ with a curse!”

The room seemed to stop breathing as Davros pulled out a glowing metal ball.

“Mark my words, you and your family will die within the fortnight. I will not rest until I see the fall of Gallifrey's monarchy forever!”

He raised the orb into the air and a bolt of lightning from it sent the ornate chandelier above crashing to the floor. Screams rippled through the room as they were plunged into darkness.

After that night, everything descended into despair. Supporters of the royal family began disappearing, threatening messages were left on the walls of royal buildings, statues were violently pulled to the ground as if they were nothing more than rotting trees. Any small spark of unhappiness in Gallifrey was fanned into the flames that would destroy lives forever.

Exactly two weeks after Davros’ threat, the idle words of the curse became a reality.

“Hurry children,” King Rassilon cried down the smoke filled corridor towards the family apartments. It was the middle of the night when they were awoken by angry shouts, shattering glass, and gunshots.

Prince Theta fumbled with a coat over his thin nightclothes. Suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks and bolted back in the direction he came from. A direction that would lead him back into the rapidly approaching battle. Unfortunately, Wilf was the only one to notice his abrupt retreat.

“Theta, where are you going?”

“My telescope!” he yelled over his shoulder.

“Theta, come back!” his grandfather pleaded desperately, but had no other choice but to follow the young prince.

Theta raced to his nightstand and pocketed the fob watch before snatching the blue box that encased the telescope.

“We have to hurry!” Wilf said over the loud shouts.

Just as they were about to leave, a little blonde girl opened a door in the bedroom wall.

“Come this way. Out the servants’ quarters,” she whispered, quickly pushing them through the door. However, in the jostling process, the blue box was accidentally knocked from Theta’s hands.

“My telescope!” Theta cried.

“Go, Go!” the girl urged.

Theta and his grandfather had just made it through in time. The sound of revolutionary shouting at the girl bounced off the walls of the passage. It only seemed to stop after a body hit the ground with a muffled thud. Theta wanted to go back and help the girl that had saved them, but his grandfather kept nudging him forward.

They finally emerged from the wine cellar and made a break for the train station.

The ash dotted snow was heavy and deep, making it nearly impossible to run. The sky was bright from nearby fires burning homes, including their own behind them. Theta’s chest seared with every breath, his legs arched with every step, his palms grew slick with sweat, but he kept a tight hold of his grandfather’s hand as they moved.

They were almost to the station, the whistle of the trains sounding loudly over the roar of everything around them. It was a little beacon of hope. They ran as fast as they could across the frozen river. Their thin nightclothes a stark reminder of how freezing and unprepared they were.

“Grandpapa!” Theta wheezed, his small hand slipping from his grandfather’s.

“Keep up with me, m’boy! We’re almost there.”

Nearing the bank of the river, Theta chanced a glance behind them. He screamed. The figure of Davros lunged at them from the bridge above them. The impact of his landing sent his body crashing through the ice, but not before he managed to wrap his fingers around Theta’s ankle.

“Davros!” Wilf gasped, falling to his knees to help the prince.

“Let go of me!” Theta screeched.

“You’ll never escape me, child! Never!” Davros cackled like the mad man he was.

“Let go!” Theta cried as Davros tried to pull him into the icy water. However, during the attempt, Davros’ thrashing cracked the ice further. His grip on Theta loosened as he sunk into the cold, black water. His gurgled shouts turning into nothing but bubbles.

By the time the prince and his grandfather had reached the station, the train had begun its departure. They had no other choice but to chase after it.

“Theta hurry!” Wilf yelled as he was pulled up onto the last car of the train, which was rapidly gaining speed.

“Grandpapa!” tears streamed down the little boy’s cheeks as he struggled to keep up. His scrawny little legs pumped as hard as they could.

“Here, take my hand. Hold on to my hand!”

“Don’t let go!” Theta shouted, desperately try to clutch his grandfather’s aged hands. But as the car jolted, their hands slipped free. Theta was sent crashing to the ground, his head bouncing violently of the tracks.

“Theta!” Wilf bellowed, trying to jump off. Several sets of arms prevented him from doing so.

“No, it’s too late for him. He’s already dead,” a man said, pulling the mourning grandfather further into the car.

The train hurried away from the uprising, from the flames, and away from Prince Theta.


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the rumour, the legend, the mystery.

_10 years later._

A bright sun rose, signalling the dawn of a new day. The sky changed from a pallet of purples and oranges to one of pale blues. It was the cloudless image most could only dream about. And dream about it they did, for it was not the same image that was depicted below the thick, murky clouds. They were not the clouds that fluffy fairy tale castles were built upon. There was no such thing as fairy tales. Not anymore. The clouds were dark, ominous, and unyielding. The wet snow that perpetually fell from them only added to the browning slush of the streets or furthered dirtied the clothes of those trudging to and from work.

This was Gallifrey. No longer a proud kingdom, but a humbled nation state. In a single word, Gallifrey could have been described as gloomy, or even bleak.

Since the revolution, the people of Gallifrey had but one purpose, and that was to work. Get up, eat some bland porridge, go to work, come home, eat stale bread and watery soup, go to bed, and repeat daily. It was a hard life, and unrewarding life, but it was for the greater good of the country.

Much like the clouds above their heads, the food in their bellies, and the slush beneath their feet, their lives were grey.

Everything about the new Gallifrey served a purpose of functionality. Hats were no longer a fashion accessory or symbol of status, but rather covering to protect against the harsh elements; all clothing served the exact same purpose. Even idle chitchat between coworkers and family members had other intentions. Gossip, more importantly, is what most people liked to think got them through the day. Everything and anything was gossiped about: the baker and his wife substituting chalk instead of flour, the arranged marriage of the seamstress and the butcher, whether or not the blind beggar was actually blind, but a constant in the rumour mill were those involving Gallifrey’s former royal family. Hidden treasures within their palace, or that the king, himself, arranged for his own kingdom and family’s downfall, were all hot topics. Whispered legends in alleyways or through cracks in doors seemed to be the only thing that really kept Gallifrey’s history alive.

“You will never guess what I heard,” a man yelled over the sounds of machinery.

“Did you hear?” a woman asked her latest customer.

“That’s not possible!” a group of people scoffed while looking at the same newspaper headline.

“Although Gallifrey’s King did not survive, a son may still be alive!”

Crowds of people milled in and out of factories and markets talking excitedly about the prospects of Prince Theta’s survival. With that, more rumours surfaced, each one seeming more ridiculous than the last. But it was the moment people found out the prince’s grandfather would pay a huge sum of money as a reward to anyone that could reunite him and his grandson, that everyone truly believed the Royal Prince Theta was still alive.

~*~

Rose Tyler meandered through a seedy black market. A wool cap sat low on her head and a scarf was pulled up to her nose; only a few blonde wisps and her bright whiskey eyes were visible. She quickly roamed the booths on the constant look out for something new.

Venders at the black market were a special breed, often requiring a keen eye, a sharp mind, and a firm hand when dealing with them. It was something Rose had learned the hard way over the years, but thanks to her friend Jack, it wasn’t as hard as it could have been. The man had helped her out of a particularly rough patch involving the National Guard, and took her under his wing.

Rose’s gaze fell on the man in question as he flirted his way into a better bargain. She bit her lip to stifle a smirk at his special talent before bringing her fingers to her mouth and whistled.

“Jack!” Rose watched Jack kiss the vender’s hand and exchange a few coins for a small painting.

“Rose, I’ve got every thing set-“

“Lady, gentleman, may I interest you in a fine deal,” a rather shady salesman interrupted. He held up a small, shabby cloak. “I got this from the palace, it’s lined with real fur!”

Rose shook her head and started to continue on, but Jack held her back as the vender leaned in, as though sharing a secret.

“I may be going out on a limb,” he whispered, his breath reeking of cheap hyper vodka and cigarettes. “But it could be worth a fortune if it belonged to him.”

Jack didn’t need to hear anymore. He flicked a coin in the air for the man and happily took the cloak.

“Jack, do we really need another thing someone claims belonged to the prince?” Rose inquired. “We’re got all the proof we need.”

“You can never have enough proof, especially now that I’ve also managed to secure a theatre. Everything is going according to plan, Rose!” Jack said enthusiastically.

“No more forging papers, no more petty cons! Soon we’ll be outta here,” Rose sighed.

“This Prince Theta is our big ticket, Rosie, I’m telling you. It’ll be the biggest con in history. Not only are we going to be rich, we’re going to be legends!”

Rose smiled, but she couldn’t fully share in Jack’s glee. This was he chance to finally get out of Gallifrey and away from this kind of life. She let her mind wander from Jack’s prattling to all of the possibilities that would come to her once she was free.

~*~

A young man with impossibly messy hair was dragged roughly from a crumbling building by a middle aged woman wearing far too much make up.

“I have had just about enough of your unruly antics, John Smith,” the woman barked with a vice-like grip on the man’s ear.

“Ow, Cassandra,” John winced.

“That’s Lady Cassandra, boy. I don’t care how old you are or how entitled you think you are, you will refer to me by my proper title until the day you die. I got you a job at the fish factory. Go straight until you reach a fork in the road. Turn right-“ she stopped when she noticed John’s eye roll and tightened her grip on his ear until he looked back at her. “Listen here you little shit. You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my arse since you arrived here.”

John managed to weasel out of Cassandra’s grip. Turning around to the other children hanging out of the building’s windows, he gave a sloppy salute and turned back to follow Cassandra towards the front gates. He couldn’t suppress the exasperated sigh at her continuous rant. Did this woman ever take a breath?

“Constantly acting like the King of Denmark, instead of the scrawny, nameless nobody that you are. For the last ten years I’ve fed you, clothed you, kept a roof over your head.”

John couldn’t help but join in with the last part of her rant, having heard it almost every day since arriving at the orphanage. However, Cassandra heard him mocking her, and before he could wipe the smirk from his mouth, the palm of her hand cracked across his face. Hard. He brought his own hand up to cradle his now stinging cheek.

“How is it that someone who claims to be a genius not have a clue to where he’s from?”

“But I do have a clue!” John protested, ignoring the comment about him not being a genius (which he was, thank you very much). He started to reach for his pocket when Cassandra beat him to it.

“If I have to hear about that stupid bloody fob watch one more time. ‘Under the stars of London,’” she mocked. “Let me guess, you want to go to London to find you’re family?”

John nodded as if this was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Ha! They wouldn’t want you even if they still existed. Nobody will ever want you. It’s time to learn your place in life and in line. And maybe be grateful for once in your pathetic life too.”

And just like that, the towering gates of his only known home, slammed shut in his face. The clump of snow that landed on the top of his head only solidified how alone and unprepared he was for this.

John traveled alone down the snow-covered road, his oversized second (probably third)-hand clothing becoming damper and heavier with each step.

“Be grateful, John,” he mimicked Cassandra’s smoke roughened voice. He laughed bitterly before shouting back into the direction he came from. “I am grateful! Grateful to get away!” His voice echoed back in the silence. He sighed glumly as he reached the fork in the road.

This was it. This was the point where he would pick which direction his life would talk, quite literally. He had to look on the bright side- not many people in this day and age had the freedom to actually choose their fate. The government often took that option away from people.

“’Go right’ she says. Well, I know what’s to the right. I’ll be John Smith the orphan forever. But if I go left…” John mumbled to himself. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his fob watched. The ancient writing engraved on the surface was now lost to so many people, but not him. Even if it meant getting caned at the orphanage for reading books that had been banned, he wanted to learn and retain all that he could. The faint ticking thrummed against his fingers and he took a calming breath. The watch always seemed to give him comfort like nothing else. Whoever had given him the watch must have cared about him, perhaps even loved him.

“Send me a sign,” he called out. “A hint. Anything.”

Even the breeze from earlier seemed to stop. John’s heart sunk. But then, out of nowhere, he felt a small tug at the bottom of his long coat. He whipped around and saw a scruffy brown and grey dog sitting just behind him; it’s tail wagging happily in the snow.

“Hello there,” John bent down to the dog and allowed for it to sniff his hand before scratching it behind the ear. It jumped up and gave John’s nose a lick and barked playfully. It looked like a young wolf cub, no more than a few weeks old. That usually meant Mama wolf wouldn’t be too far off. John took a quick step back to distance himself.

“Look, you’re really cute, but I can’t play right now. I’m waiting for a sign,” he told the dog. “And I must be going crazy, I’m talking to dogs now.”

The cub barked again and began tugging at John’s coat with a little bit more force.

“Hey stop that! This is the only coat I have. My friend Janis gave it to me before-“ John was cut off when he became entangled in the coat and tripped over his own feet. He fell face first into a snow bank.

Spluttering and getting to is feet to scold the little fuzz ball, he saw that it had moved a little ways down one of the roads-the left road to be exact. It looked far too smug and cheerful for its own good, like it knew a secret John didn’t. That’s when it hit him.

“You want me to follow you, is that it?” the dog barked in confirmation. “Into the city?” another bark. “And you want to come with me? For a little wolf like you, that could get dangerous. All those mean people wanting to turn you into a lining for a cloak, you might be safer to just go home.”

The saddened look in the pup’s eyes broke John’s heart. It moved off to the side of the road and lay down in the snow.

“You’re an orphan just like me, aren’t you?” the dog’s tail remained curled under its body, and if possible, looked even sadder. “Well, if you’re going to be my traveling companion to help me chose where I need to go, you’re going to need a name,” its ears perked up, but it remained on the ground.

John looked at his new little friend for a moment as he tried to come up with a name. He suggested a few, but they were all rejected with a loud snort. John thought hard and gazed into the puppy’s eyes; they were golden and almost glowed in the afternoon sunshine.

“Tardis,” John blurted out as if it had been whispered in his mind. “How about Tardis?” The dog launched itself into John’s arms and began to lick his face. John took that as approval.

~*~

John arrived into the city around dusk and asked the nearest person where the train station was. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this light and free. Not even the long ticket line could dampen his spirits.

“One ticket to London, please,” John cheerfully asked the man behind the booth.

“Exit visa,” the attendant droned grumpily.

“What?”

“No exit visa, no ticket!” the man growled and slammed the kiosk window shut. The people behind John grumbled and roughly shoved past him.

“Psst.”

John turned to see a haggard old woman with a broom.

“See Jack and his assistant, they can help,” she whispered conspiratorially.

“Where can I find them?” John asked.

“At the old palace, but you didn’t hear it from me.”

~*~

“Thank you, we’ll be in touch,” Jack told the young man standing alone on the stage.

“No we won’t,” Rose said just loud enough for Jack to hear as she violently scratched the man’s name from a very long list that spilled over the edge of the desk they shared.

“He at least sort of looked like the prince,” Jack suggested.

“Yeah, if you close your eyes. Next please.”

A large man wearing a long fur coat walked to the center of the stage. Without warning, he dropped the garment. He was completely naked underneath.

“Grandma, it’s me, Theta,” the man purred.

“No, no, absolutely not!” Rose said while she brought her hands up to shield her eyes. Jack, on the other hand, leaned in.

“Excellent candidate!” he clapped his hands together.

“Stars give me strength,” Rose groaned and put her head on the desk.

After they had seen the rest of the applicants, and Jack had not so discretely handed the naked man a slip of paper with a saucy wink, they called it a night.

“That was it, Jack. Game over. That was the end of the list and we still don’t have someone to pretend to be Theta.”

“We’ll find him.”

“If we do, he’s going to be right under our noses, and I’m going to end up kicking-“ Rose collided with something solid, or rather someone solid. Automatically, the stranger’s hands came up to steady her.

“You should watch were you’re going,” Rose uttered into the stranger’s chest, her scarf muffling, and hopefully disguising, her voice.

“Terribly sorry, but I was wondering if you could tell me what’s in this building here?” the stranger asked, gesturing to the old palace next to them. His voice was warm and even pleasant to listen to.

“There’s nothing there. You should move on,” Jack said. “Come on, love, best be getting home before the curfew.”

Rose rolled her eyes at the obvious lie to get them out of a possible hairy situation and weaved around the man with her eyes down cast. Something grey and fluffy sat behind the man at his feet, but Jack’s hand came around and tugged at her elbow. As they walked away, a wave of fear suddenly came over Rose. She reached into the bag slung over her shoulder to see if the stranger had pinched anything. Her fingers brushed the worn edges of a blue box and she breathed a sigh of relief. That box was their key to making the Grand Duke believe the Theta imposter.

“You all right there, Rose? That guy didn’t do anything to you, did he?” Jack asked.

“No, no, I’m fine,” Rose mumbled absentmindedly as she followed Jack into a hidden door of the palace.

~*~

After he ran into the woman and her husband lurking around the palace, John decided he needed to be a little more careful. The woman didn’t exactly look very threatening, though he could really only see her bright amber eyes peaking out from a scarf and hat. Her husband on the other hand seemed like one that he should probably avoid an altercation with. There was also the matter of the mentioned curfew.

Looking for an entrance, he noticed that all of the doors and windows had been boarded up. He wondered if the old woman had been lying. Maybe it was all just a ploy: lure some unsuspecting person and pounce. Suddenly, he got a very bad feeling.

“Tardis? Come on, we shouldn’t be here,” John looked around for his little friend, unease building into fear.

He saw her sniffing around a boarded door. She looked back at him, barked, and then disappeared through a small hole into the palace.

“Tardis!” he hissed. “Tardis, what are you doing? Get out of there!”

John tried to pry a board open further to get a better look inside. Instead, the entire barricade came crashing down on top of him.

Getting to his feet, John entered the palace. Tardis was sitting at the top of a staircase looking quite pleased with herself.

“You think you’re pretty clever, don’t you? Come on then, let’s have a look around and see if we can find these guys.”

Again, Tardis led the way through a corridor that overlooked what appeared like a ransacked ballroom. Moonlight filtered in trough the gaps of the boarded windows and highlighted the swirling dust in the air. The walls were lined with aged paintings. One painting in particular caught his eye at the top of the staircase that descended into the ballroom. It was a portrait of the royal family dressed in their best. The regal looking King and Queen were surrounded by their five children, each looking the part of a proper, polished royal. All but one that is. A young boy who sat on the floor at his mother’s feet had wild brown hair that stood apart from the meticulously done hair of his family. Even behind the cobwebs, there was a distinct twinkle in the boy’s eyes.

The painting triggered something in John because it somehow managed to transport him to a different time. He felt himself being pulled by an invisible force to the main floor. Dainty music played and colours whirled all around him. Even scents of wine and freshly sugared pastries seemed to be present. It was an enchanting sight, but John’s eyes fell upon the shimmering stars above him. They glittered and winked at him, the sight took his breath away. He felt his knees grow weak and had to sink to the floor. It was like a dream or a distant memory…

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

The loud voice startled John out of his fantasy. The stars, the dancing people, the music all became covered windows and dusty artefacts once more. Jumping to his feet, John bolted from the sound of the rapidly approaching steps behind him.

“Hey, stop! Stop! Just hold on a minute!”

Tardis sat in the middle of his path, and he made a move to scoop her up, but she avoided his touch, sending him off balance. John had no other choice but to stop and turn around to look at his pursuers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for such kind words! I hope you continue to enjoy it!


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Far away, long ago.  
> Glowing dim as an ember.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday gift for greatspacedustbin! Again, sorry for the late update, life has been a bit hectic and my muse wasn't always on speaking terms with me, but I think we managed to get there in the end. I hope you enjoy! :D

“Did you hear that?” Rose asked, dropping her soupspoon back into the bowl.

“Hear what?” Jack said around a mouthful of bread.

Rose strained her ears trying to listen for the sound again. She was sure she heard a bang from one of the floors below, but could only hear the sound of the crackling fireplace in front of them. “Nothing, probably just the wind rattling the bones of this drafty palace.”

Even as the words left her mouth, Rose didn’t believe them. She pulled her scarf a little tighter around herself and tried to halt any more thoughts of tall mysterious strangers and things that go bump in the night. The two of them ate the rest of their dinner in relative silence; comments about the dull tasting food and the messy surroundings of what use to be a library has long since been discussed at length.

Somewhere beneath them, a dog barked and a man’s voice followed.

“Now that I heard,” Jack got to his feel and pocketed a small firearm. As much as Rose didn’t exactly care for Jack’s use of weapons, she couldn’t deny it had been rather helpful on occasions.

Fear-tainted adrenaline surged through her veins, her heart pumping it wildly from head to toe. From the way it painfully hammered against her ribs, she feared the organ might just burst through her chest.

“Sounded like it came from the old ballroom,” Jack whispered. Rose’s tongue felt as though it was sewn to the roof of her mouth and could only manage a nod in response.

The old ballroom was the largest room in the palace, and for the most part, was still relatively intact. Paintings of old nobles, royals, and national heroes still hung high on the walls, their lifeless stares looking down at what had become of their once proud home and country. The faded and torn canvases always had an unnerving effect on Rose, even when they were lit up with flickering candlelight. Moonlight snuck through cracks and curtains, but it was a sight that didn’t belong in this world anymore. It was a distant memory from a far off world that reflected off long forgotten and left behind objects. She could remember a time where the room smelled of wine and whiskey, melting wax and expensive perfumes. But now the crisp scent of winter and blunt scent of neglect clung to the air, it was a smell that Rose had gotten use to over the years. It wasn’t quite home, it never had been, but it was the closest thing to.

She felt Jack leave her side, and she let her eyes roam, looking for anything amiss. Her pounding heart stuttered to a stop when she saw a man sitting on the floor in the middle of the ballroom. His head of messy brown her was tilted back towards the ceiling. Rose wasn’t sure how Jack had missed him, and considered letting him know, but he didn’t look very threatening.

“Hey! What are you doing in here?” the words left her mouth before she knew what she was doing.

The man was shocked out of whatever little world his mind had taken him to. He jumped to his feet in a tangle of limbs and took off like a shot. Without a second thought, Rose found her feet carrying her down a flight of stairs after him.

“Hey, stop! Stop! Just hold on a minute,” Rose called after him. The intruder was tall, his long legs allowed him to bound up the grand staircase with ease, and the dust that coated the floor beneath her own feet made traction difficult. She fell behind.

The man reached the second floor, where a small dog waited for him. He made a move to scoop it up, but it moved at the last second. Rose watched him stumble into the massive painting of the formal royal family. He must have known there was no other choice but to stop.

“What are you, part deer or something? The way you leapt up those stairs,” Rose panted as she rested forward on to her knees to catch her breath. The man’s breathing seemed to be completely unfazed by the pursuit, and he turned to face her.

“Now then, how did you get in he…here?” Rose stuttered when he had faced her fully. A silver of dusty moonlight bathed his face and the bottom corner of the painting behind him in a ghostly glow. Rose allowed her eyes to dart between the image of the shrugging man in front of her and the painted one of the young Prince Theta. She didn’t even have to do a double take to see the resemblance between the two.

“Rose, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” Jack panted, finally having caught up.

“Jack, do you see what I see?” Rose whispered, ignoring Jack’s peeved stare.

“Is that the guy that was snooping around the palace earlier? Thought I told you to-“

“No, look,” she insisted while placing her hand on his, preventing the raising of his gun.

“Oh my god,” Jack breathed after the penny dropped.

“There you go.”

Rose took a hesitant step forward to get a better look at the man who looked as though he could be the lost Prince’s twin.

“Are you Jack?” the man finally seemed to find his voice just as Rose got to the top of the stairs.

“Perhaps, that depends who’s looking for him,” Jack replied from his spot on the lower level. Rose didn’t see any obvious weapons strapped to the stranger’s body, but the long trench coat he wore could hide quite a lot if he needed it to. She slowly started to circle him, and by the time she made her second pass, the more he looked like lost prince.

“My name is John,” the man said. “I need some travel papers and they said you’re the man I should see, even though I can’t tell you who said that,” his voice dropped to a stage whisper.

“Travel papers,” Jack confirmed.

“Yes, I’d like to go- why do you keep circling me? Were you a vulture in another life?” John turned his attention to Rose.

Rose felt the colour rise to her cheeks. Her search had long since stopped being about weapons, and more cataloguing John’s likeness to Prince Theta (and most definitely not ogling his rather lithe figure).

“Sorry, James, is it?” Rose began.

“John,” he corrected with irritation.

“Right, right. It’s just…It’s just you look an awful lot like…never mind. Oh, and just who is little creature?” Rose tore her eyes away and looked towards John’s furry companion.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, Tardis is a young wolf cub,” John warned as Rose knelt down to get a better look at the pup. Tardis tilted her head in curiosity at Rose. For a brief second, her eyes almost seemed to glow, but the glint was gone after Rose blinked. She must have imagined it. Before she knew it, the wolf cub was charging over to her. Rose started to prepare herself for the worst, but the puppy began to happily lap at her face. She couldn’t help scratching the little Tardis behind the ears.

“Oh, she is precious!” Rose cooed.

“She…erm…she doesn’t usually take to strangers,” John mumbled, clearly a bit baffled, but Rose looked up to see him grinning slightly at the sight before him, but he quickly schooled his features when they made eye contact. “We sort of found each other,” he squatted next to Rose and gave Tardis and affectionate ruffle. “We haven’t exactly been together for long, but she always seems to lead me to where I need to go, whether I know it or not.”

Jack started up the stairs, his hand outstretched to also join in the pet fest, but just as he was about to touch the dog, Tardis growled softly at him. He jumped back with a yelp and Rose couldn’t help laughing.

“So,” Jack’s voice echoed through the hall, his eyes narrowed at the trio in front of him. “You said something about some travel papers?”

“Yes, I’d like to go to London,” John stated.

“You’d like to go to London?” Rose sent Jack a knowing look.

“Yes, I was found wandering around when I was ten years old. I don’t really remember anything before that.”

“Is that so?” Jack raised his eyebrows. Rose could tell he was formulating a plan, one that most likely involved the man in front of them.

“But I have a clue about my past, and that is London,” John shrugged. He looked as though he was trying to look nonchalant about asking for their help, but the touch of fear behind his eyes, the quick tug of his ear, and the awkward rocking onto his heels, told otherwise. It was a feeling Rose was familiar with, and often tried to shove aside.

“London,” Rose parroted, her mind still elsewhere.

“Right,” John looked as though Rose had dribbled on her shirt. He turned back to Jack. “So, can you help me or not?”

“Sure we’d like to help you, in fact, oddly enough, we’re going to London ourselves!” Rose beamed. She got to her feet and hopped over to Jack and began to rifle through his pockets.

“Rose, what are you doing?” Jack hissed into her ear.

“Tickets!” Rose proclaimed gleefully, brandishing four tickets in the air. The side that faced her read “Gallifrey Circus”, but John didn’t have to know that part did he? He was her ticket out of here, and she was not going to let this opportunity slip from her fingers.

“And I’ve got three, ah well this one is just…” Rose tossed one of the tickets away, and waved them in front of John’s face. “I’ve got three tickets here,” John tried to snatch the tickets out of her hand, but Rose was too quick, and managed to hide them behind her back.

“Unfortunately,” Jack chimed in, catching on to her plan. “The third one is for him. Theta.” He gestured up to the portrait of the young prince. John visibly gasped at it, but Jack didn’t give him enough time before leading him towards a portrait of the Grand Duke.

“We are going to reunite the lost Prince Theta with his grandfather,” Jack finished, allowing for John to gaze up at the painting of the elderly man.

“You do kind of resemble him,” Rose stated. “The same soulful brown eyes…”

“The eyes of a royal,” Jack purred. If Rose didn’t know any better, she would think he was flirting. Actually, he probably was.

“King Rasslion’s strong jawline,” Rose continued, lightly patting John’s jaw.

“The Queen’s enchanting smile,” Jack flashed a grin of his own.

Rose didn’t know what made her do so, but she grabbed John’s hand. The spark that ran through her felt like it jump-started her heart, and she quickly dropped it. She most definitely did not feel a sense of loss after she let it go. John must have felt the quick shock too, and looked down at his hand in confusion.

“Oh look, he even has the grandfather’s hands! The long fingers were perfect for spinning intricate little dials on his telescopes. He just loved the stars!” Jack sighed. “He’s the same age, the same physical type,” Jack couldn’t keep the leer from his voice. John startled backwards into Rose.

“Are you trying to tell me that you think I am Theta?” John scoffed. He ran his hands through his hair in a distressed gesture.

“All I’m trying to tell you, is that we’ve seen thousands of lads all over the country and not one of them looks as much like the Lost Prince as you do,” Jack pressed. His tone was tense and exasperated; Rose could tell he was getting frustrated and desperate with their situation. Never had they been so close to finding their own Theta.

“I knew you were mad from the start,” John pointed an accusatory finger at Rose. “But now I think you’re both mad! C’mon Tardis.” John spun on his heel and started to march away, Tardis sulking behind him at his heels.

“John, wait,” Rose hurried after him and gingerly placed a hand on his elbow. She didn’t miss the way he flinched, but he didn’t make a move to leave further. “Just look at that portrait. You don’t remember what happen to you, and no one knows what happened to him. You’re looking for your family in London, and his only known family is in London.” Rose tried to put her own wants aside in an attempt to comfort John. All of their talk seemed to agitate him, and for some reason, Rose didn’t want that. To tease and taunt him, yes, but to actually upset him was a step too far. At some point, her hand even found its way into John’s, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing what she hoped were soothing circles on his skin. When he lightly squeezed back in return, she realized where her hand was, and she snatched her hand back as though she had been burned. John looked down at her with traces of confusion in his eyes.

“Think about it, Johnny boy,” Jack’s voice cut through the silence. “You seem like a smart man, you can’t honestly tell me you haven’t thought about the possibilities.”

“You think that I could be royalty?” John asked after a moment, his tone a little less brash than before.

“I think that anything’s possible.”

“I just think it’s kind of hard to consider yourself as a prince when you’ve slept on a damp floor,” John laughed bitterly. “But sure, yeah I guess every lonely little boy has a dream about being a prince.”

“And somewhere,” Rose interjected into John’s thoughts. “Some little boy is.”

With that, Rose turned back to Jack and started to walk away, leaving John to his own thoughts. She caught the tail end of Jack’s eye roll and smacked him in the arm.

“Do you think we’re walking away too soon?” Rose whispered to Jack.

“Nah, I know these types of guys. If all he wants is to go to London, why give away a third of the reward money? Just walk a little slower.”

The room was silent once more as Rose and Jack walked silently away from John. She chanced a look over her shoulder back at John. He was once again running his hands through his hair, staring up at the royal portrait. Rose saw him pull something out of his pocket, then look towards the painting of the Grand Duke.

“Rose,” John called out. Jack hurried Rose along a little faster. “Rose, Jack, wait!”

“Did you call me?” Rose turned around at the sound of John’s shoes slapping across the floor. She smiled innocently as he approached with Tardis at his heels. He looked like he’d had an epiphany.

“Okay, so, if I don’t remember who I am, then who’s to say I’m not some long lost lord or prince or whatever he is… right?”

“Go on,” Rose and Jack prompted with matching grins.

“Yeah, and if I’m not Theta, the Grand Duke will certainly know right away,” John continued so rapidly, it was a wonder how his tongue didn’t become tangled in a knot. “And then we can just chalk it all up to an honest mistake.”

“An honest mistake,” Jack pretended to test the idea around in his mouth a little, but Rose knew full well that he was doing it simply to pacify John. “It’s plausible.”

“But if you are the prince, then you’ll finally know who you are and have your family back!” Rose gave John a tongue touched smile. He quickly glanced down at her mouth and returned her smile with a lopsided grin of his own. She couldn’t deny the butterflies that fluttered happily in her stomach.

“Rose is right,” Jack chuckled. “And either way, it gets you to London.”

John mulled the idea over for what seemed like less than a second before offering his hand to Jack. Both of them shook firmly, and then John offered his hand to Rose. She briefly hesitated, but wrapped her fingers around Johns. His hands were colder than hers, but warmth still radiated through her. Just as Rose started to enjoy the feeling of John’s slightly callused fingers, another jolt of electricity sparked through their fingers making them physically jump back from each other.

“Ow!” Rose squeaked, shaking her hand.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” John blurted out, his eyes darting between his hand and Rose.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. I shook hands with Jack just fine, but you keep trying to electrify me! It’s like you’re part machine or something,” John swooped in a tapped her roughly on the forehead with his finger.

Rose slapped the offending finger out of her face. “Oi! You’re a bit rude aren’t you?”

“Once you two have stopped bickering, we’ve got a schedule to keep,” Jack said with a glance at his watch.

“Right, sorry…” John said sheepishly. “Onwards and upwards.”

“Your royal train awaits, Sire” Rose curtseyed deeply.

“Presenting his Royal Highness, Prince Theta Sigma of Gallifrey!” Jack crowed into the vast room, his voice echoing back in the emptiness like a ghost.

~*~

Unbeknownst to the group within the palace walls, a ghostly shadow was lurking outside. A single bulging eye peered in through a small crack of a boarded window.

“It cannot be true,” croaked the raspy voice of a man. “Prince Theta is dead. Dead, dead, dead. He died with the rest of the royal family. Roasted to a crisp like a Christmas goose.”

The man continued to watch the group argue about whether or not the little mutt of a dog would be joining them on the train. He flicked the butt of a still glowing cigarette aside. “He is a very convincing lookalike, I’ll give you that,” he mumbled to himself. The voyeur reached into his tattered coat and pulled out another cigarette. As he took a slow drag, a melodic sound caught his attention. It was a sound that he thought had died with the royal family.

“Oh my god, you speak High Gallifreyan?” the blonde girl gasped.

“What?” the Theta imposter asked in confusion.

“That sound that just came out of your mouth, it was High Gallifreyan. It was reserved for the royal family to speak. Very few people could even understand it,” She responded, her voice still filled with awe.

“Oh, it was just a saying that I’ve always known. Maybe I picked it up from a book or heard someone say it somewhere,” the imposter shrugged. The fool clearly didn't understand the impact of such a thing.

A wave of fear overcame the onlooker. If this man who looked exactly like Prince Theta Sigma could speak High Gallifreyan with such perfection, it could only mean one thing.

“Theta Sigma is alive,” the voyeur whispered. “And that’s him! Oh no. The boss is not going to like this one bit.”

With a swoop of his coat, the man dashed through the snow and climbed atop of a horse and road off into the night.


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dark of the night evil will brew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for such encouraging words! I may not always respond to the comments, but I read and treasure them all! As always, this is a birthday gift for Greatspeacedustbin! I hope you like it! (I also borrowed some dialogue from Anastasia (1997), so Fox Home Video owns all of the rights to those.)

It was a quiet and still night; not even the bare tree branches dared to move. It was almost dreamlike, if the dreamer was plagued by nightmares, that is. Snow crunched noisily beneath the hooves of the shrouded man’s horse as he approached a daunting dark wagon. Truth be told, he was fearful about what his master would do to him once he learned the truth about Prince Theta.

He wasn’t even entirely sure if the man he vowed to serve was truly still alive. Some said that his master wasn’t human anymore, maybe he never was, that he had sold his soul for the power to bring down Gallifrey’s royal family once and for all. However, on the fateful night that the royals went up in smoke, the very man who caused their demise vanished as well. But evil never dies. Not really.

Shakily, the man dismounted his horse with a muffled thump and approached the wagon that very well could end up being his grave. Emitting an audible gulp, he mustered up the courage to knock on the rough wooden door. He waited a moment then decided the wagon was empty. With a sigh of relief, he turned his back on his master’s domain and made an attempt to retreat to his horse. But before he could take more than a single step, a cold grip squeezed around his throat, effectively halting all movement.

“Who dares intrude on my solitude?” The growled voice of Davros sent shivers down the man’s spine as he fought for breath around the tightening icy clutch. The pungent scent of what very well could be rotting flesh assaulted his nose. If he could have gagged, he would have.

“Dav…ros…please…” the man gasped. Dark spots started to swim into his vision.

“Dalek Sec?” Davros immediately released his throat. Dalek Sec dropped to his knees and welcomed air into his straining lungs with sharp gasps.

“You…You really are alive?” Dalek Sec breathed in disbelief. Davros appeared to be unchanged, despite ten years passing. His pruned skin both sagged and stretched across hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes. His fraying robes hung loosely off his decrepit figure, making him look like a swathed, sickly newborn babe.

“You sound shocked, yet you still sought me out,” Davros spat, but quickly recovered. He slowly circled around Dalek Sec like a wild animal stalking his prey.

“My faithful little servant, what is it that has brought you back to me?” his mock-lightness did little to hide the deadly intent behind it. “Was it out of loyalty to me?”

Dalek Sec said nothing and continued to cower at the feet of his master.

“Or perhaps it was out of fear. I can feel that something has happened. Tell me, Dalek Sec. It will be much easier to speak while you still have a tongue.”

“Yes, sir, something has happened,” Dalek Sec whimpered.

“I can feel the dark forces stirring…”Davros murmured absentmindedly.

“That’s because they are! It’s Him!”

“It’s who?”

“Prince Theta! I saw him, he’s alive!” Dalek Sec said with despair.

“Theta? Alive?” Davros snarled, grabbing Dalek Sec by the scruff of the neck. “What else do you know?”

“Nothing, nothing! I was in the city, and I went to the old palace to see if there were any more relics to sell.”

“Get to the point before I decide you would be more useful to me as a rat with wings!”

“As I was looking into the ballroom, there he was! He was with those two con artists.”

“The little blonde she-wolf and the defrocked captain? They’ve been trying to pull off the reappearance of Prince Theta for years now. Nothing more than a scheme that plays with mere rumours and gullible twits, you blundering bit of horse shite. Now, get out of my sight!”

“But sir, he spoke in High Gallifreyan!” Dalek Sec pled as Davros shoved him aside to re-enter his wagon.

“He what?” Davros was actually caught off guard by the tremor of shock that rippled through him at his servant’s words.

“The melodic speech reserved only for the Royal Family-“

“I know what it is, you fool!” Davros growled.

“He spoke it like it was nothing! Even the con artists knew what had happened! He claimed he must had read about it somewhere.”

“Well, you know as well as I do, that isn’t possible. All books pertaining to the royal family and their language have long since been destroyed! Even so, you don’t just simply pick up the royal tongue from a book.”

There was a long pause between Davros and Dalek Sec as they both pondered what all of this meant. If this boy had truly spoken High Gallifreyan, if he truly was the lost prince, then that could explain why Davros had been stuck in between this world of living and death. But it simply wasn’t possible! The very notion that a child could defeat him was just ridiculous! Then again…

“My curse is unfulfilled…” Davros cursed under his breath when realization donned on him. He reached into his robes and pulled out a set of aged _matryoshka dolls. The first one bared a striking resemblance to Gallifrey’s former king, Rassilon._ He carefully took apart the layers of the dolls and set them on the steps of his wagon. Each figurine appeared to be modeled after the members of the Royal Family. Once each doll had been assembled in a neat little row, he took a step back to admire his work.

“Sir?”

“Rassilon and his family were foolish enough to try and kill me,” Davros continued as though Dalek Sec wasn’t there. “Hired assassins, stabbed, poisoned, shot, thrown off a bridge,” he listed off while knocking each of the little wooden nesting dolls to the ground until only one remained.

“I swore to destroy all of them!” Davros picked up the last and smallest doll. Its painted on chestnut brown hair and speckled rosy cheeks resembled a young Prince Theta. When he spoke again, it was to the figurine in his hand.

“If he lives, if he should have a child, the royal bloodline continues. And I won’t let that happen. This is the end of the line!” Davros crushed the miniature Theta and let the dust fall from his fist into the wind.

“Where is he?” Davros finally turned back to Dalek Sec. “Where is Prince Theta?”

“He was on his way to the train station with a flea ridden mutt, the girl, and the captain, sir,” Dalek Sec explained.

“So, he has a few friends. No matter,” Davros began to pace in front of his wagon, his mind formulating a plan. “It is time to finish my prophecy once and for all.”

Davros reached into his robes once more to pull out a glowing metal orb.

“Come my minions, rise for your master, let your evil shine,” he chanted fiercely to the reliquary in his hand. It began to glow brighter. “Find him now, yes, fly ever faster! And in the dark of the night he’ll be mine!”

A sickening crack pierced the air, causing Dalek Sec to jump. In the shadowed wood behind the wagon, dark shadows began to appear out of the ground as if they were new trees sprouting from the earth. As they pulled themselves from the forest floor, Dalek Sec noted they weren’t entirely human, at least, not anymore. Three hooded figures approached Davros. The first appeared to have the body of a man, but the head of a sneering jackal. The second had a huge bear-like body that clashed horribly with the sinister looking head of a vulture. However, the third appeared to be completely normal. If fact, _she_ was beautiful! Her eyes were a hypnotic icy blue and a hint of soft golden hair framed her face under her hood. Dalek Sec felt a twinge between his thighs when she sent him a wicked smirk. He was just about to approach her when she pounced on him first. Razor sharp claws coiled around his throat, their tips digging into his flesh. She opened her mouth to reveal a series of equally sharp teeth, each of them dripping in saliva.

“I’d be careful with The Madame,” Davros cackled merrily as the woman released Dalek Sec. He scurried backwards until he collided with another hooded figure. Looking around, he noticed there appeared to be a small mob that had risen with the three others. All of them sat atop tall black horses with blood red eyes.

“I don’t care what you do with the others, but finish the boy,” Davros commanded to his minions. “Kill him.”

With that, the army reared their horses up and road off into the night. Dalek Sec shook his head at the madness of all that had happened in such a short period of time. He made an attempt to slink off into the darkness unnoticed, but failed miserably.

“And just where do you think you’re going?” Davros asked, but didn’t wait for an answer. “I believe you and the Cult of Skaro have a train to catch.”

~*~

The gentle rocking of the train car had almost lulled John to sleep. He watched the sun dip behind the snow covered hills as they whizzed past. The quiet scratch of Jack’s scrawling was oddly soothing to listen to. It had been a whirlwind of a day. He had gone from being John the Orphaned Nobody to John the Lost Prince in the span of a day. Well, not John the Lost Prince exactly, it was more John the Maybe Lost Prince, or John the Pretend Lost Prince. He wasn’t really sure what he had just signed himself up for, but at least it was a start in a direction to figuring out who he was. He leaned his head against the cool glass of the window and tried to make sense of it all.

In all honesty, it was completely mental. He had just come along with two people he knew very little about. He glanced cautiously across the compartment at the man who was currently forging their travel papers, which in itself should have been a warning sign.

Jack seemed pleasant enough, bit of a flirt, but it was that flirting that had got them into a private compartment on the train, so for the time being, John wasn’t complaining. Rose, on the other hand, was something else altogether. He wasn’t sure what it was about her, but he couldn’t get her out of his head. How her teasing and giggles managed to set him on edge, yet he still seemed to crave it. Hell, he almost welcomed her to start bantering with him, though he wasn’t sure why. He had to admit that her eyes shone like an exquisite whiskey. Not the kind of whiskey Lady Cassandra sucked back nightly at the orphanage, but the kind that was usually found in crystal decanters next to expensive liqueurs and champagnes. He had a sudden mental image of a tray laden with crystal glassware and bottles in a small drawing room that smelled of expensive cigars and candle wax, a spicy oak flavour burned its way down his throat…

The sound of the compartment door brought him out of his thoughts. Rose entered carrying an old, heavy looking suitcase, Tardis happily bounced in behind at her heels. Rose heaved the baggage above her head to put it on the rack over Jack, but she struggled under its weight. John’s hands shot to her waist to steady her when he noticed her balance shift. He felt the warmth of her skin even through her thick knitted jumper.

“Oi!” Rose spluttered at him.

“What? You were about to fall, I was just giving you a hand!”

“Yeah, well you can keep your hands to yourself. I’ve got it, ta.”

“Yeah, sure, okay, good” John rambled, snatching his hands back and crossing them over his chest.

She didn’t have it.

Just as she managed to get half of the suitcase onto the overhead rack, the train jolted, sending her toppling backwards into John’s lap. The suitcase followed suit and landed at her feet. Thankfully, it avoided anyone’s toes.

“You all right?” John asked after a moment. He had involuntarily wrapped his arms around her. He told himself it was just a reflex, because he most definitely didn’t do it just because he wanted to hold her.

“Never better,” Rose grumbled and awkwardly got to her feet to battle with the baggage again. This time she said nothing when John wordlessly helped her. He kept one hand on her lower back to steady her while his free hand helped her two hands push the suitcase into it’s rightful place. His touch lingered longer than it should have, but Rose appeared to be ignoring it. Jack, however, quickly flicked to a different page and scratched something down on scrap piece of paper with a knowing smirk on his face.

The seat space next to Jack had been taken over by papers, so Rose was forced to sit next to John. A sense of relief came when Tardis jumped up and sat between them. Again, when he had touched her, she felt a (not totally unpleasant) spark run through her. She was quite aware of the hand that had lingered on her back, but tramped down the surge of butterflies that came with it. He was only helping her because he probably didn’t want her falling on him again.

She looked though her lashes over at John, who had pulled an old fob watch from somewhere. She watched him trace over the circular design that had been engraved on the outside, lost in his own thoughts. His touch was delicate, as though he was touching the skin of a lover. Rose shivered. She really needed to get these thoughts out of her head and focus. This was a scheme to finally get away from everything; John was a means to an end, and nothing more.

“Stop fiddling with that thing,” she snipped haughtily. “And sit up straight. Remember, you’re a prince.” She knew her tone was harsh, but she felt like she needed to compensate for her wayward thoughts.

“And how do you know what princes do or don’t do?” John asked with raised eyebrows.

“I make it my business to know,” she replied smoothly with a grin.

“Right,” John drew out the word and rolled his eyes. He slouched down further in his seat and began toying with his fob watch again.

“Look, John, I’m just trying to help, all right?”

Rose shot Jack a glare when he snorted. He wisely went back to his papers. For a brief moment, the only sound that filled the car was the click-clack of the train moving closer to their destination. Closer to her freedom, Rose told herself.

“Rose?” John’s voice punctured the silence. Rose hummed in acknowledgement. “Do you really think I’m royalty?”

“You know I do,” she mimicked his sweet tone.

“Then maybe you should stop bossing me around!” John said tersely.

Rose narrowed her eyes at him. John’s only response was to stick out his tongue. It was very childish, but Rose mirrored the action before turning away to pick up a book sitting next to her.

She tried to follow the words that were in front of her, but she ended up reading the same two sentences over and over. She was grateful when Jack cleared his throat loudly.

“I’m just gonna go to the toilet. Anything I can get you two?”

Rose and John both grunted out a no. Jack bit down on his lip to keep from smiling.

“You sure? A knife perhaps?”

“What would we need a knife for?” John’s brow was furrowed.

“To cut the tension between you two,” Jack said as though it were obvious. When he was met with matching stony looks from John and Rose, he gave a sloppy salute and promptly left the compartment mumbling something about children with no sense of humour.

“Look, I think we got off on the wrong foot,” Rose sighed. She set her book aside and moved to sit on the seat directly across from John. If this whole plan was going to be effective, they were going to have to work together.

“Well, I think we did too,” John said.

“Okay.” She relaxed. That wasn’t so hard, she thought to herself.

“But, I appreciate your apology,” John smiled, then turned back to look out the window.

“Apology? Wha- who said anything about an apology? I was just saying that we-“

“Please don’t talk to me anymore, okay?” John interrupted. “It’s only going to upset both of us.”

“Fine. I’ll be quiet. I’ll be quiet if you will.”

“All right, I’ll be quiet,” John shrugged.

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.” John concluded with stretching his long legs out in front of him so they crossed over onto the seat where Rose was. Rose looked down at where his old trainers almost came in contact with her thigh. When she looked back up at John whose left eyebrow was quirked, an unspoken challenge for her to move it. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes. Maybe this newfound quiet would allow her to get some sleep.

“You think you’re gonna miss it?” John’s voice broke through the silence.

“What? Your talking?” Rose retorted without opening her eyes.

“No,” John scoffed. “Gallifrey.”

“Nope.”

“Why? It was your home?” John pressed.

“It was a place I once lived. End of story.” And she truly hoped it would be the end of this discussion.

“Well, then you must plan on making London your true home.” Apparently it wasn’t the end of the discussion.

“What is it with you an homes? I didn’t peg you for being the domestic type.”

“I’m not!” John replied indignantly. “It’s just, isn’t it something every normal person wants? And it’s also a thing where you…”

“What? Where you what?” Rose prompted where he trailed off.

“It’s where you have someone…someone that… you know what? Forget it!” John shouted. He stood, making sure to _accidentally_ jostle Rose’s thigh with his foot as he did so.

“You know what? Fine!” Rose got to her feet as well. Even though she was shorter than him, she still made an attempt to stare him down.

The door to the compartment slid open and Jack slipped inside. If he though it was tense before he left, it was nothing compared to now. John and Rose were standing toe-to-toe and staring daggers at each other. Jack wanted nothing more than to laugh.

“Oh thank goodness it’s you,” John rounded on Jack. “Please remove her from my sight.”

“Rose, what happened?” Jack asked, impressively keeping his amusement masked.

“Me? It’s him!” Rose shot back, her eyes not leaving John.

“Well, if she won’t leave, I will!” With that John roughly pushed past Rose and Jack. “Come on, Tardis.”

Tardis made no motion to follow him. Instead, she moved closer to Rose.

“Ungrateful little traitor,” John mumbled before turning on his heel and stomping down the corridor.

Jack couldn’t hold in his chuckles any longer and sat down next to the window.

“And just what, may I ask, is so funny?” Rose snapped.

“Is there an unspoken attraction between you and our little prince?” Jack asked though his laughter.

“Attraction?” Rose choked out. “To that skinny arrogant prat? Have you lost your mind?”

“I was only asking a question.”

“Attraction! Ha! Ridiculous!” Rose snorted.

“Ah, ah, the lady doth protest too much,” Jack smirked.

It was Rose’s turn to storm out of the compartment. This time, Tardis followed.


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My dear here's a sign  
> It's the end of the line...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday gift for greatspacedustbin! Thank you again for all of your kind words and I hope you enjoy!! I will be starting a new job soon, and I'm not sure how much it will affect my time to write. So, to make up for it, here is an extra long chapter!  
> There is a brief mention of a burn injury in this chapter. It's nothing too graphic, but I thought I would mention something in case it bothers anyone.

John huffed in annoyance after being kicked out of the kitchens. Apparently midnight snacking was frowned upon. He shoved the pilfered tin of sausages and jar of jam into his pockets for later. With a defeated sigh, he started to make his way back to the compartment. Back to Rose.

He was just asking a simple question, and she had to go and bite his head off. Yet, that wasn’t the part that seemed to be bothering him. He couldn’t seem to get rid of the image of her anger flushed face out of his mind. Even when she was yelling at him he couldn’t deny her beauty. He also now had the memory of her warm skin as well. He wondered how her skin would feel without a scratchy wool jumper as a barrier, or how she would look with her face tinted pink for another reason; perhaps the delightful shade would colour more than just her face…

He stopped dead in his tracks. Where the hell did that come from? From the moment he agreed to come along, he swore he would not get attached to Jack or Rose. Especially Rose. Once John had fulfilled his duties to them, they would be out of his life. He learned over the years that everyone leaves in the end, and this situation, however odd it may be, was no different.

Still, he had to be with them until that time, and they were helping him out, so the least he could do was be pleasant about it.

When he reached their compartment again, he found that it was empty. Panic surged like ice through his veins. Frantically looking around, he noticed that all of their baggage was still over the seats. Nothing in the car seemed to indicate a struggle or than they had left in a hurry, so he didn’t think they had been forced out. As if to confirm his deducing, the door to the compartment opened and Jack entered with a bottle of clear liquid.

“Care for a drink?” Jack offered with a sympathetic smile.

John nodded and took a swig from the offered bottle. The cheap liquor hit his pallet with a bite and a burn. He tried to swallow it down, but it was no use. It was just as painful coming out as it was going in.

Jack laughed and sat next to John. “Hyper-vodka isn’t for everyone, but it’s the only way I can manage to fall asleep on these trains.”

“Never really needed much sleep, me,” John said once he had stopped coughing.

“Don’t need it or don’t want it?” Jack asked taking another swig from the bottle.

John let the question hang in the air. Ever since he could remember, he had been plagued by nightmares. They weren’t really clear or vivid, like a fog had rolled into his mind, but they were always the same: fire, screaming, running, and falling into blackness just before waking. The dreams had terrified him as a boy, but as he grew older, he just conditioned himself to not need as much sleep. He knew it wasn’t the best thing to do, but once he hit the point of exhaustion, the dreams seemed to evade him.

“You okay there, John?” Jack asked.

John answered him by taking another gulp from the bottle. Miraculously, he managed to swallow this time.

~*~

The corridors of the train were practically empty as Rose walked aimlessly back to their compartment. She regretted storming off the way she did, but admitted she needed a break. She had never in her life met anyone like John. The man had insufferable arrogance that almost rivalled the former Royal Family- perhaps he truly was one of them. He was exceptionally rude and never seemed to stop talking. And yet, Rose felt inexplicably drawn to him. The little accidental brushes of their hands or feet, when they’re eyes met even for the briefest moment, the image of him towering over her, it all set her skin ablaze. It was maddening! She needed to get a grip; it was nothing more than harmless intrigue and the thrill of a new adventure. She told herself it was just the excitement of finally getting out. John was using her as much as she was using him; there was no time for emotions to get involved.

She had found herself in the baggage car and allowed the thundering sound of the speeding locomotive to drown out the noise of her mind. But after it only earned her a kink in her neck from sitting against a crate, Rose opted to head back for the semi-comfortable seats in their car. The entire time, Tardis remained her shadow, following right behind her and never straying too far. The little wolf cub somehow comforted Rose. Even when she vented her frustrations about men throwing tantrums like a small child, Tardis nuzzled herself into Rose’s jacket, as if she was trying to soothe Rose.

As she neared their compartment, three people rapidly scurried down the corridor speaking in hushed tones.

“You didn’t tell me we needed new papers,” a middle aged man accused.

“I didn’t think we did!” the youngest of the three defended.

“What the hell are we supposed to do? Officials are doing ticket rounds! This is what I get for trying to sneak out of the country with a felon,” the third one said.

“No one informed me that red is the new blue! We’re going…”

Rose didn’t need to hear anymore of the conversation for full-blown panic to blossom in her chest. She scooped Tardis into her arms and pushed passed the group. Ignoring their curses, she bolted back to the compartment.

“Jack, we may have a problem,” Rose panted upon entering the space. Tardis wiggled free of her arms and leapt up onto John’s lap. Rose didn’t think he would be back. It was probably best he didn’t know they were about to be in very hot water.

“What’s wrong?” John’s brow furrowed.

“Oh, it’s nothing. Just a bit of a delay,” Rose lied, plastering a grin on her face. She knew John saw right through it. “Jack a word?”

Jack followed Rose out into the hallway. “What’s all this about, then?”

“What colour are our papers?”

“Blue, why?”

Rose smacked her forehead and groaned. “That what I hate about this new government, everything’s in red.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, those papers you worked so hard to forge, are going to be a complete waste because they are in the wrong colour ink!”

“How do you know?”

Rose sighed in exasperation, they didn’t have time for this. “I passed a bunch of people who also tried to beat the system. It turns out the system is now fighting back. With guns, I might add. And I’m sure they wouldn’t be overly upset if they got an opportunity to use them.”

“I propose we move to the baggage car before those officials get to us,” Jack said stepping back inside.

“I propose we get off this train!” Rose whispered harshly before looking at John. “C’mon, we gotta go.”

Next to him, Tardis barked wildly at something outside the window. John grabbed her and tried to settle her, but she wiggled free and ran back to the window.

“Where are we going?” John asked over Tardis’ growls.

“Just grab your things,” Rose said reaching over his head for some of the baggage. At the same the bag came loose, John stood up. The bag hit him square in the nose.

“Ow!”

“Oh, come on!” Rose urged.

“I think you broke my nose!” John whined as he shrugged on his coat and followed Jack down the corridor with a suitcase in hand and Tardis right behind him.

“Men are such babies,” Rose murmured to herself before heading after the other two.

The brisk air of the baggage car was a sharp against their skin. Wind whistled through the sliding door along the side. It didn’t have any cushioned seats, or lighting, or heat, but it also didn’t have any gun wielding ticket officials either. Yes, it would do nicely.

“We’re going to freeze in here,” Jack said just loud enough for Rose to here.

Rose supressed a shiver. “We can thaw in London.”

“The baggage car? There wouldn’t be anything wrong with our tickets, would there my Lady?” John approached them with raised eyebrows.

“Of course not, your Grace,” Rose smiled at him. “I just…It’s just that why should you be forced to mingle with those commoners when you can have all of this to yourself?”

“Right,” John rolled his eyes with a knowing smirk, which faded as quickly as it appeared. “Does anyone feel like we’re going a little faster than normal? Perhaps too fast?”

No sooner than the words had left his mouth, the train lurched violently, sending all of them to the ground. Above John, a pile of luggage threatened to collapse on top of him. He braced himself for the impact, but something much warmer and softer covered his figure instead as the tower collapsed around him. He inhaled a pleasingly sweet scent and took a moment to let it waft around him, effectively blocking out the damp, musty smell of the car.

“What was that?” grunted a distinctive feminine voice above him.

Rose.

Rose was currently sprawled out on top of him. He was acutely aware of her breath puffing softly against his neck. Even through both of their layers, he could have sworn he felt her heart fluttering in her chest- a chest that was currently pressed against his.

“I don’t know,” Jack’s voice rang out from the other side of the car. “But there goes the dinning car!”

Jack’s statement was like a bucket of cold water. John tried to sit up but realized Rose was still blanketing him.

“Get off me!”

“I’m trying!” Rose grumbled in return trying to kick the luggage away from them. In doing so, her toe came in contact with something much harder than the average suitcase. Judging by John’s yelp, it was his shin.

“What is it with you hurting me today?” John hopped up holding his leg.

“Uhh, Rose?” Jack cut off Rose’s apology.

“What?” She snapped.

“I think someone has flambéed our engine!” He hollered from the doorway. Rose and John both joined him and looked for themselves. Opening the door, they were immediately knocked back by a wave of sweltering heat. Rose wasn’t sure what to expect, but Jack’s description of the situation was relatively accurate.

Thick black smoke oozed from the engine’s chimney and saturated the surrounding air, but that was the least of their concerns. Flames erupted in all directions from the glowing column, spitting ash and sparks like a mythical beast.

“Something’s not right,” John gaped.

“Wait here, I’ll go check it out,” Rose said as she prepared to leap onto the coal car. John’s fingers curled around her wrist and halted her in her tracks.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” John asked. His face was etched with something that looked a lot like worry. “What if that thing blows up? Maybe I should go. Or Jack? ”

“I’ll be all right. I’m just going to check on the driver. I’ll only be a tick.”

John couldn’t find it in himself to let go. His mind started playing tricks at the sight of the flames snaking through the blackened air. Figures and faces appeared in the blaze and filled his ears with panic laden shrieks and evil cackles. Reflexively, his hand tightened around Rose’s wrist.

Rose sensed a shift in John the minute he saw the fire. When she stated she wanted to go poke around, all colour drained from his face. Against her own accord, Rose placed her hand over John’s and lightly squeezed it.

“I’m only going to have a quick look, I promise to be back in one piece,” she offered what she hoped was a comforting smile. John seemed reluctant to let go, but he did.

Rose took a running start and jumped across to the coal car’s ladder. She climbed up and crawled across the black rocks trying to ignore how the sharp edges bit into her palm. The waves of heat only seemed to intensify when she jumped down and entered cab.

“Hello?” she called, shielding her eyes from the flares in front of her. “Anyone here?”

Taking a chance, Rose briefly lowered her arm to have a look around. Coughing through the heavy smoke, she spotted a wall of dials in front of her. All of their needles were pointing into the red zone. This was bad. This was very bad. Without really thinking, she pulled on a nearby lever hoping it would somehow help. Instead, the train only seemed to increase in speed. She snatched her hand back and winced at the welt rapidly forming across her skin.

Over the roar of the train, she faintly heard the pricking of splintering glass. It was the dials. She managed to shield her face just as the dials shattered, pelting her with burning hot shards of glass. She had to get out of here.

“Nobody’s driving the train!” Rose tried to yell once she returned to the others. Her throat burned from the smoke she’d inhaled.

“Rose, what happened in there?” John raced over to her. He made a move to reach up and touch her face, but snatched it back and fisted his hands in his pockets.

“We’re gonna have to jump.” Rose wheezed still trying to catch her breath. She felt John’s eyes on her as she heaved on sliding door, but avoided his gaze.

“Did you say jump?” Jack came up beside her. Together they looked down at what appeared to be a steep cliff face jutting out of soupy fog with no end in sight. “Ladies first.”

John looked between the two of them and the opening of the car. There had to be a better way than dying in a hurdling ball of fire or jumping to their doom.

“Why don’t we just uncouple the car?” John shouted over to them.

Rose looked to Jack and nodded.

“Good plan,” Jack grinned.

Before Rose had any say in the matter, John climbed down to where the train cars were joined. Looking down his heart sunk, it looked like the coupling had rusted over. This wasn’t going to be an easy task, then again, when was it ever? Using his feet, John tried to kick the crank loose, but it was useless; it was like the two cars had been welded together somehow.

“Everything all right down there, Johnny?” Jack asked.

John clung to the to the train, still working on where the two cars where connected. “I need a hammer or an axe or something.”

Jack and Rose quickly looked about the car for something to separate them from the rampaging engine. Jack spotted a toolbox not far from the exit and set to work digging through it.

Successfully locating a hammer, Jack rushed back over to John and passed it to him. John pounded on the coupling. After a few hard thwacks, the head of the hammer snapped off.

John groaned in frustration. “Come on, there has to be something better than this!”

Rose appeared out of nowhere above him holding a fizzing stick of dynamite. “Try this!”

“That’ll work!” John snatched the explosive and stuck it in a small indentation of the coupling. He leapt back into the baggage car and grabbed Rose’s hand. “Run!”

The three of them crouched behind a set of crates and waited for the dynamite to do its job.

Against his better judgement, John wrapped himself around Rose’s body, shielding her from the impending blast. She was there when he was bombarded with falling luggage, and this was practically the same thing. Sort of. He was just returning the favour, and not just trying to be close to her. He heard her breath hitch, but she didn’t move away. She may have even moved closer to him. He didn’t have long to ponder their arrangement, after a few tense moments the car shook from the force of the explosion.

“Where did you manage to find a stick of dynamite?” John asked.

“Tardis found it, actually,” Rose said. “She’s quite clever that one. There are crates in the corner filled with the stuff. Guns too.”

“Should have guessed that a train coming out of Gallifrey would have dangerous contraband,” he replied with unmasked disdain.

“Well, we’re here, aren’t we,” she turned around in his arms and gave him a teasing grin. John’s gaze instantly zeroed in on the hint of tongue that poked out of her mouth. He couldn’t help feeling a little flustered by the sight of it.

“The breaks are out!” Jack shouted from off to the side. Suddenly, Rose and John realised how close they had been standing to each other.

“Then turn harder!” Rose gritted out.

The brittle snap of the metal break wheel only served to punctuate the breaking of whatever spell she and John had been under.

Rose looked around for some solution. They may not have breaks, but they also didn’t have anything pulling them either. “It’s fine. We’ve got plenty of track, we’ll just coast to a stop.”

As if on cue, a blood-curdling screech filled the air. All of them watched helplessly as the bridge in front of them was suddenly engulfed in a swarm of bright green fire. Whatever was left of the bridge fell pathetically into the bottomless chasm below. So much for plenty of track.

John was the first one to break the horrified silence. “You were saying?”

They needed to think of something and fast, with every passing second they neared closer to the gorge. Out of the corner of her eye, Rose saw a heavy looking chain securing some cargo.

“I’ve got an idea,” she said and began to gather the chain. She was pleased to see a large four-prong hook at one end and a smaller hook at the other. “Jack, give me a hand will you?”

Rose inched her way towards the door of the car and lowered herself beneath the carriage. The ground whizzed dangerously beneath her, one wrong move and she would surely be swept beneath the carriage. It was now or never.

“Hand me the chain!”

Above her the chain appeared, but she was stunned to see it wasn’t Jack holding it, but rather John. “Not you!” was the only thing she managed to grunt out. Her hands ached under the strain of keeping herself upright.

“Jack’s busy at the moment,” John yelled.

Rose accepted the chain and hooked the smaller end to the undercarriage. But before she could climb back up, a loud crack startled her. A twisted piece of metal came loose from beneath the car and flew towards her like shrapnel.

“Shit!” she breathed.

Two strong hands gripped her upper arms and helped yank her into the safety of the car just in time to see the metal embed itself deeply into a tree.

“And to think that could have been you,” John murmured into her hair. His arms wrapped protectively around her back.

Rose’s fingers clutched John’s coat until her knuckles turned white. John bent his head to look at her. His eyes met hers, and she felt some distant emotion swirling within her. He offered her a tight smile.

“Now what?” Jack asked innocently. His voice caused John and Rose to spring apart, almost causing Rose to slip off the end of the car, but John grabbed her hand and pulled her back. Rose hissed painfully at the contact, but brushed John off quickly.

“If we live through this, remind me to thank you,” she said before turning back to the coil of chain at her feet.

The three of them pushed the chain off the back of the car with a bit of effort. The grappling hook bounced off the track a few times before latching on and pulling the chain taught. Almost instantly, the railway tie pulled from the ground followed by several others before one finally held. The momentum jerked from its wheelbase and turned the car sideways. They ploughed through drifts of snow and gradually started to slow, but they wouldn’t stop in time before reaching the bridge.

“Well, I think this is our stop!” Jack yelled, scooping up Tardis and tucking her into his coat. With a quick wink at Rose and John, he leapt off the car.

Rose picked up her suitcase with one hand and reached for John’s hand with the other. She was relieved when he gently returned her grip.

Together, they jumped.

~*~

“Maybe we should stop for the night?” John suggested. “We passed a cave not too long ago.”

“John’s right,” Jack agreed. “Even if it’s just until dawn, a little rest could do us good.”

Rose could only bring herself to nod. She was exhausted and her entire body ached. The wind had picked up significantly since they had jumped from the train. Thankfully, the snow was soft enough to cushion their landing, so other than being damp and cold, no real harm was done.

The cave turned out to be nothing more than a small inlet in the rock face with an overhang, but it also appeared to be dry and would provide shelter from the wind, so it became home for the night. They relieved themselves of what remained of their luggage, which turned out to not include any of John’s things, and started on a hunt for firewood.

The wooded area was a little unnerving, John thought, though he refused to let on. It was dark; clouds had blackened out any sign of the moon and stars. The wind carried whispers through the trees, the words were unintelligible, but they still coiled around his gut like a venomous snake. Out of the corner of his eye, he kept seeing hooded figures lurking, watching him, but every time he looked, nothing was there. He felt like was something, or someone, following him. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. He nearly jumped out of his skin when Rose lightly touched his arm.

“Easy there tiger,” Rose smirked. She was clearly holding back laughter.

“What did you do that for?” he asked in annoyance still trying to slow his racing heart.

Her smirk bloomed into more of a smile and his heart sped up for an entirely different reason. “Relax, I was just coming over to check on y… on how much wood you’d collected. Or rather how much you haven’t collected.” She eyed the small bundle of sticks in his hand.

“Rose Tyler, I’ll have you know that these sticks-“

“Eh, look more like twigs to me.”

“These _sticks_ are going to be highly valuable to us tonight.”

“Right, well good luck with that, but I think these sticks are going to make a better fire than your _twigs_ ,” she actually did laugh that time. It was a nice sound, even if it was at his expense.

“These _sticks_ aren’t for building a fire, they’re for roasting,” John stated matter-of-factly.

“You’re not going to be able to roast anything without a fire, mate,” Rose grinned again, holding her pile of wood up a littler higher for emphasis. With a quick final smile, she turned on her heel and walked back to camp, leaving John alone again. The minute she left, the noises and shadows returned. He hastily followed her.

By the time John had returned, Jack already had a small fire going. Tardis had sprawled herself in front of it, happily soaking in its warmth.

“Slim pickings, Johnny?” Jack asked, nodding towards John’s bundle.

“Don’t be daft, Jack,” Rose scoffed, depositing her own, significantly larger pile, next to the fire. “Those are highly valuable roasting twigs. If only we had something to roast,” she snapped one of her own sticks and tossed it into the fire.

Now it was John’s turn to smirk. He may not have any of his luggage, but he had something better. He reaching into his pocket and pulled out the tin of sausages. “Anyone hungry?”

Rose’s jaw dropped then closed with an audible click before she went back her pile of wood, a scowl firmly in place.

Again, Jack sensed the tension between the two of them. Sure they bickered, but he hadn’t missed the way they snuck glances or made up excuses to touch each other. And their little embrace after Rose nearly fell off the train didn’t go unnoticed. They could deny the attraction all they wanted, but he knew there was something there. Maybe all they needed was a little nudge.

“Well, we’re going to need some more wood if we’re going to eat and stay warm for the night,” Jack declared. “If you want to get started on dinner, John, I’ll head out and find some more wood.”

“You sure?” John asked, not sure what Jack was up to, they had a decent stack of wood for the time being.

“Yep! I won’t be long,” Jack beamed. “You two play nice, now.”

Rose rolled her eyes and snapped the wood harder than she needed to while John set to work opening up the tin. Suddenly, Rose hissed sharply through her teeth. John’s head shot up and saw her looking at the palm of her hand.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Rose said flatly. She pulled her sleeve down to cover up her hand, but not before John saw the angry red welt on it.

“Rose,” he hedged carefully. “What happened to your hand?”

“It’s nothing.”

“May I see?”

“There’s nothing to see,” she mumbled, pulling her sleeve down further.

“Rose, please?” John asked softly and reached out to her.

Rose sighed and allowed him to gently pull back her sleeve. She bit down on her lip as the rough material ran across it. John swallowed his gasp when he saw the damage. She had an angry burn across her palm. The skin that had managed to blister up had ruptured and ripped into little wounds that were caked with bits of rust and dirt. John was speechless. He had no idea she was had been dealing with this injury. While it wasn’t as bad as it could have been, it still looked incredibly painful.

“That bad, eh?” Rose half laughed when he hadn’t said anything for some time.

“What happened?”

Rose thought for a moment. “I must’ve burned it when I grabbed on to something in the engine.”

John briefly flushed with anger. He knew he shouldn’t have let her go. She was true to her word, she had made it back in once piece, but it could’ve ended much worse than a burn across her hand.

“But it didn’t,” Rose said softly. Apparently he had said that last part out loud.

He sighed. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was a bit busy trying to save your arse,” she said with mock sternness.

“If I recall, I saved yours a few times back there,” he replied with a raised eyebrow. “Now about your hand.”

John rifled through his pockets and came up with a couple of clean handkerchiefs that could be used. He passed them to Rose and went looking through Jack’s bag.

“I’d be careful in there if I were you,” Rose warned. “Never know what sort of paraphernalia you might find.”

John quickly found what he was looking for. He returned to Rose’s side with the bottle of hyper-vodka.

“It’s to clean out the cuts,” John said at her questioning look. “It’ll sting a bit, but that just means it’s working.” He carefully cradled Rose’s hand with his. “Ready?”

At Rose’s nod, he slowly poured out the clear liquid on to her hand. At the sight of her clenched jaw, he stopped.

“You okay?”

“Yep!” She squeaked. Her eyes were clenched tight.

“Just a little bit more, okay?” John waited for her to nod then trickled out a little bit more. Using one of the handkerchiefs, he carefully wiped the dirt and debris out of her cuts. Once it was clean, he took a better look at her injuries. It didn’t seem to be as bad as it could have been, and should heal just fine.

“So,” Rose hedged awkwardly, closely watching him tend to her hand. “How’s your nose?”

“My nose?”

“You took a suitcase to the face.”

“Oh right, that! It’s fine. I’ve taken hits harder than that before and lived to tell the tale. My shin, for example…” John playfully nudged her thigh with his knee. Rose looked away sheepishly mumbling an apology, though she did so with a small smile.

He slowly wrapped the other handkerchief around her hand in a makeshift bandage.

“What do they teach in those orphanages?” Rose asked breaking the comfortable silence they had fallen into. “Maybe I should be calling you Doctor instead of John.”

John couldn’t help smiling at the little glint in her eyes. “Keep the use of that hand to a minimum, Miss Tyler,” he said with an air of authority. “And don’t let the bandage become too soiled. We don’t need an infection on our hands. Doctor’s orders.”

He wasn’t sure what possessed him to do so, but he placed a feather light kiss against the center of her palm. Even though his lips didn’t come into contact with her skin, he still felt a surge of tingles run down his spine. He felt her breath catch and he quickly pulled back.

“Rose, I’m sorry. That was out-“

“That part of your Doctor’s orders too?” Rose cut him off with a nervous laugh. He was relieved to see she was smiling. A tinge of pink coloured her cheeks and he was sure his cheeks matched.

“So,” John squeaked, then cleared his throat and tried for something a little more masculine. “So, erm…are you hungry?”

“Starved,” Rose said a little more breathlessly than she would have liked.

Jack returned a little while later to the smell of cooking sausages and the sight of Rose showing John how to properly roast the meat. Both of them wore matching grins. Maybe they didn’t need extra wood to warm up after all.


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine how it was.  
> Your long-forgotten past.  
> We've lots and lots to teach you and the time is going fast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not going to bore you with the excuses I have, but I do want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart! You have been so kind and patient with me, and I can't express my appreciation enough!! Still a birthday gift for greatspacedustbin! I adore you!

Rose managed to grab a few hours of sleep next to the fire. John, on the other hand, did not. He had watched Tardis scoot from her spot by the fire and burrow into Rose’s side. The sight warmed him more than the fire did. It was obvious that his little cub had taken a shine to Rose, then again so had he (though he tried to hide it much more than Tardis did).

At some point, Rose had started mumbling in her sleep. She was dreaming, and judging by the way her face was scrunching, it wasn’t a happy dream. He was all too familiar with the darkness one’s own nightly imagination could weave. He didn’t want to fully wake her, but he also wanted to offer some comforting tether. In a move he would deny if anyone asked, John curled up behind her and gently rubbed her arm. He attempted to keep his body distanced from hers, but soon he was cocooned around her from behind. Before he knew it, their fingers had loosely tangled together, though he wasn’t sure who initiated the motion. And that was how they remained for the rest of the night. An unusual sense of comfort and lightness washed over him and despite himself, John actually felt his eyes drooping. For once he didn’t try to fight it. But before he could properly sleep, he sensed Rose starting to stir. John quickly extracted himself from her grip and slid a safe distance away. Which happened to be the other side of the cave.

True to the plan, they were up and about at dawn. They snuffed out what was left of the fire’s hot embers and made their way down the hillside to a little dirt road that followed a stream. The snow had thinned out near the bottom, giving way to grass and the occasional mountain crocus sprouting up. Spring was definitely in the air.

“Are we walking to London?” John asked casually. “I mean I would prefer that over taking a train.”

Rose scoffed, but it almost sounded like she was covering up a laugh. “Don’t be daft. We’re taking a boat from France.”

“Oh,” John conceded and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat. They walked a little while longer in relative silence, then John decided he needed to hear Rose’s voice again. “So, we’re walking to France?”

He was pretty sure he could hear Rose’s eyes rolling. “No, your Grace. We’re taking a bus.”

“A bus! That’s nice,” John grinned. “Love a good bus, me!”

Rose did laugh that time. “Have you ever actually been on a bus?”

“Well, no,” John hesitated. “But I imagine they’re fantastic! You get to meet all sorts of interesting people and travel around! It’s brilliant!”

“Oh, I am so going to hold you to that,” Rose snickered.

“What? Why?”

“You’re in for a real treat.”

John wasn’t really sure what Rose was talking about, but before he could ask her to elaborate, Jack caught his attention.

“Donna! My dear Donna,” he called out gleefully. “Captain Jack is on his way!”

John turned to Rose. “Whose Donna?”

“Whose Donna?” Jack laughed. “She is the bright candle in a dark room! Nay! She is a sparkling chandelier that brightens every nook and cranny of your soul! ”

“Jack!” Rose warned, but Jack clearly didn’t hear her. His eyes had glazed over as he began to waltz around with an invisible partner, humming a wordless tune.

“The cup of liqueur and hot chocolate after a long walk in the snow,” he glided over to Rose and pulled her into his arms. Rose did not appear to be a willing partner and continued to hiss things in Jack’s ear, but Jack paid her no mind. He was clearly lost in a memory, seeing someone other than Rose in his arms.

“She’s a decadent pastry filled with whipped cream and fire!” Jack sang out, dipping Rose backwards so far that her hair nearly brushed the ground.

“Okay, is this a person or the world’s most deadly cream puff?” John cut in, fighting back laughter at Rose’s horrified expression.

“She is the Grand Duke’s ravishing niece!”

“What?” all trace of humour and lightness drained from John. “I thought we were going right to the Duke himself? Why are we going to his niece? Rose?!” He rounded on Rose. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment while she fumbled for an answer.

“Well, you see, the thing is that no one get’s to see the Grand Duke without convincing Donna first,” Rose hedged in a small voice.

Fury rose up with in John. This was not part of the deal. He looked down at his ragged old brown suit that was now torn and singed in places, he had several days worth of scruff coating his cheek, he had nothing but the clothes on his back and a silly little fob watch to his name, and he knew next to nothing about being a prince! No one in their right mind would believe he was royalty.

“Oh no, not me, no. Nobody ever told me I had to… to _prove_ I was the prince!” He all but screeched.

“John, look, I’m-“

John ignored the contrite expression on her face and paced angrily in front of her. “Show up. Yes. Look nice. Fine. But lie?”

“You don't know it's a lie. What if it's true?” Rose put her hand on his arm to try and calm him, but he flinched it away. She sighed. “Okay, so there's one more stop on the road to finding out who you are. I just thought this was something you had to see through to the end no matter what.”

“But look at me, Rose! I’m not exactly prince material here! They’re going to be looking for someone clean cut and dashing. Someone who can whirl a girl into a stupor,” something echoed in his mind, but he shoved it aside. “Someone who actually looks and acts like a prince! Not…”

“Not what, John?” Rose asked quietly. Her eyes actually looked compassionate and honest. If he wasn’t so furious at her, if she hadn’t told him a blatant lie, he may actually have believed her.

“Not someone like me!” John spat before storming off away from them.

“John, wait!” Rose called after him.

Jack placed a hand on her shoulder. “Let me go talk to him.”

“You?” Rose scoffed in disbelief.

“I have a way with words,” he smiled smugly and started in the direction John ran off in.

Jack found John leaning against the railing of a bridge, looking down at his reflection in the flowing stream.

“Tell me John, what do you see?”

He looked down at his own distorted face staring back at him in disdain. His skin was still smudged with dirt and soot from their train ride. He looked about as good as he felt.

“I see a skinny little nobody, with no past and no future,” John kicked a pebble into the water, shattering the image of himself in a splash. He spun around to see Rose coming up behind him.

“That’s not what I see,” Rose said softly. He felt a fresh wave of anger flicker through him.

“Oh, than why don’t you enlighten me, Rose. What do you see?” John sneered. “Is it a gullible fool? Is it a little pawn in your master plan? Oh I know! I’m just a-”

“No!” She shouted over him, a plea for him to stop. After a deep breath, she continued in a much softer tone. “No. That’s not it at all. I see an engaging and brilliant young man who always puts others before himself in a simple act of kindness, not because he wants something. And someone, on a number of occasions, that has shown true courage equal to any royal in the world. And believe me, I have known my share of royalty.”

John was taken aback by her passion and intensity. Her eyes spoke of her sincerity, of a promise, but there was something else hiding within them too. She had a past, one that she desperately tried to hide. He felt his annoyance start to melt away as his curiosity got the better of him.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter,” it seemed as though all of her earlier fight had left her. “What matters is the here and now.”

“Like reuniting you with your family!” Jack piped in. It was obvious he was trying to cover for Rose, but John let it slide.

John felt so lost. He had no idea how he was going to be able to convince some woman that he was Theta, let alone the prince’s actual grandfather. He didn’t even have a happy memory from his own past that he could draw inspiration from. Unless the role of a prince was to scrub floors on hand and knee or clean out a fireplace, no one would ever possibly believe that he was a prince. Rose and Jack likely wouldn’t throw him to the wolves without a little background knowledge of who he was pretending to be, but what if he wasn’t good enough?

“John?” Rose’s quiet voice interrupted his thoughts. She walked over to him and John stiffened as she tenderly began to wipe away the soot and grime from his face with light brushes of her fingers. He could feel a slight tremor in her hand with each swipe. Was she nervous?

“We never meant to deceive you, honest, and if you want to leave and never see us again, I understand, but there is nothing back there for you, John. London holds a new start for you; you can become the man you want to be there.”

She was right; he had nothing to lose by going to London. He would either figure out his missing past, or finally be able to let it go and move forward with his life. Any lingering bit of tension and apprehension evaporated at her honest words and warm touch. His eyes slipped closed when she moved her fingers move to gently comb through his hair. Moments later he was looking at his refection in the water again. Or at least he knew it should be his reflection, but it looked nothing like the previous face that stared back at him. His face was still unshaven, but the dirt had been cleaned away, his hair had been artfully tussled, and there was a definite flush that coated his cheeks. He no longer looked like the lost little orphan boy, but rather someone who maybe, just maybe, could pass as being a royal. Something hopeful bloomed in his chest.

“Dame Rose, Captain Jack, start your teaching.”

“See? I knew there was a Prince under there,” Rose stood back and admired her work with a soft smile and a pink hue to her own cheeks.

“Then let’s begin,” Jack said staring off into the distance thinking where to start. “You were born in the summer palace on the Kasterborous Sea…”

After that, everything became a total blur of information absorption. He started riding horses at the mere age of three (“It was a glorious white stallion,” Jack had said), according to Rose, he was a right little terror to the cook (“you made these God awful faces at him! And then one day, you actually made him fall in the brook behind the palace chicken coop! He quit not long after that.”). He learned that when he wasn’t writing the book on being a wild child, he could be found in the library with his nose buried between worn and tattered pages learning about everything from historical battles and medicine, to plants and languages and mathematical formulas.

“But the stars, they were always your favourite,” Rose said wistfully. If John didn’t know any better, he would say that she was speaking from her own memory rather than weaving the tale of his past. “You would run off from parties just to go off and look at them.”

“My father use to give me this look every time he caught me sneaking away. And no matter how beautiful Jupiter looked, he still managed to tell me off,” John laughed. From somewhere in his mind, he saw a stern faced man chastising him for rude behaviour that was unbecoming of a prince. Rose and Jack both turned to look at him, their brows knitted together in confusion. Rose blinked up at up then shook her head to clear it.

“Where did that come from?” Jack asked.

“Sorry?” John cringed sheepishly. He had no idea where that image had come from, but it wouldn’t do to have his gob running off in from of the Grand Duke or his niece. “Got a big carried away.”

“No, that’s good! We can use that! I can actually picture old King Rasslion doing that!” Jack grinned before continuing to rattle off bits of the prince’s past.

By the time the sun dipped beneath the mountains behind them, John was sure his head was going to explode with the overload of information he had been fed. He couldn’t even begin to fathom how he was going to remember half it when the time came, and they still were only just getting started! Fortunately, just as the stars started to trickle out along the night sky, Rose seemed to catch on to his frustration as they passed a small inn. She suggested that maybe they could all use a bite to eat and perhaps an actual bed for the night. Unfortunately, stopping their journey for a few hours did not mean they would be stopping his ‘prince lessons’.

“Salad fork, fish fork, meat fork, uh…” John trailed off thinking.

Rose and Jack had placed a mismatch of various dishes they borrowed from the inn’s kitchen in front of him to create a formal dining setting. John had never seen so many pieces of cutlery, glasses, and plates. One person had to use all of these? He only had two hands, how was he supposed to use three glasses and four forks all at once? He released an exasperated sigh.

“It’s the best fork of all,” Rose hinted with a concealed smirk.

“The dessert fork!” John crowed when he caught on.

“There is nothing like a good Gallifreyan pear cake for dessert,” Jack smacked his lips at the memory.

“Never cared much for pears,” John recoiled at the mere thought of the dessert that had Jack so smitten. For as long as he could remember, he hated the vile snot coloured fruit. His aversion to them only seemed to increase when, on the rare occasion, they actually got dessert at the orphanage. It was always overcooked pear mush. He grew nauseous at the thought.

“What? Not even when they’re drenched in an gooey caramel sauce?”

“Nope,” John leaned back in his chair, trying to get away from Jack’s blasphemous words.

“What if it was topped with a mountain of airy Chantilly cream?” Rose added with a mischievous grin.

“Oh, Rose Tyler, not you too,” John groused. The other two howled in laughter. “You both are disgusting, you know that right? Now bananas on the other hand.”

“Bananas? What makes them so special?” Jack asked with a knowing smirk.

“Well first of all, they’re not pears,” John began. “They’re full of potassium, they’re sweet, and I’m almost positive they taste much better with the caramel and cream than a pear ever could.”

“Spoken like the true Prince Theta,” Jack mumbled in Rose’s ear while John continued to prattle on about the benefits of bananas.

“And speaking of dessert,” John raised his eyebrows hopefully. All this talk about food and place settings and bananas had his mouth watering.

“Ah, ah, ah, not until you know how to conduct yourself at the table,” Jack chided, gesturing back at the dishes in front of them.

John slouched in his seat and sighed. He pointed to the collection of glasses that stood in for wine and water goblets and began to recite his latest lesson back to his teachers. “Red wine, white wine, water…”

~*~

Thanks to Jack’s smooth talking, or flirting as Rose liked to call it, they managed to procure a lift into the next town where they would pick up the bus. Of course it happened to be in the back of a rickety truck carrying pigs, but a truck was a truck. Tardis, on the other hand, didn’t think so highly of their mode of transportation.

“Oh come on, its just a few pigs!” John tried to reason with her, but she wasn’t having it. She sat down and gazed up at John, though there was nothing sweet about her big puppy eyes, only hard, stubborn resolve.

“You kids coming or not?” the owner of the truck said.

John sighed. “It’s either this or walking, because I don’t think you’re up for another train ride.”

At John’s words, Tardis reluctantly jumped up into the back of the truck. However, instead of crawling over to where John would be sitting, she hopped into Rose’s lap. If she had been able to, John was pretty sure Tardis would have stuck her tongue out at him.

The ride was not a smooth one. Rose wasn’t sure if it was the unevenness of the road or the truck itself, but she was sure that she wouldn’t be able to sit for a week. She was fairing a bit better than John, who the pigs seemed to have taken a shine to.

“They’re just pigs, John,” Rose stifled a giggle as John nudged yet another pig away from sniffing his face.

“Says the one who doesn’t have to deal with a smelly animal in their face.”

“I’ve been putting up with Jack for years now, it’s basically the same thing.”

“Hey!” Jack shouted indignantly, but Rose and John were laughing far to loudly to hear him.

Rose looked over at John, whose eyes were closed with the force of his laughter. Sure, she had heard this man laugh before, but not like this. His laugh was genuine this time. It was so infectious and carefree; she couldn’t help the swooping of her stomach. His eyes found hers, and she was immediately struck with how expressive they were. They were so intense and curious, but were also warm and compassionate, which was a rare find these days. But before she could get even more lost in his eyes, a pig snorted loudly in John’s face breaking the moment. Before long, the two of them were in stitches again.

“Oh, haha, hilarious. You two are so cute,” Jack’s voice dripped with amused sarcasm. His expression changed to one of self-satisfaction when he rifled through his bag and pulled out a tightly wrapped scroll of paper.

“What’s that?” John asked, wiping the tears from his eyes.

“Your family tree,” Jack replied with ease. “Every family has one.”

“That thing is my-I mean Theta’s family history?”

“Oh no my dear boy,” Jack said, watching John’s shoulders sag in premature relief. With a quick flick of the wrist, Jack unfurled the entire scroll until several feet of unravelled paper pooled at their feet.

“What?” John’s eyes bulged comically, but Jack’s grin only grew wider.

“I think our next lesson will be names of royalty!”

After what felt like hours, they neared the small town where they would pick up the bus that would get them to the London bound ship. Rose had amused herself by watching Jack educate John about Theta’s family history. It was a rather dull topic, in Rose’s mind, filled with the typical numerous battles, various attempts to de-throne rulers, and the occasional marriage to a cousin, but watching the banter between teacher and student had been entertaining. After the initial shock of how many people were tangled together in the family tree, John began to catch on quite quickly. Soon enough, he was rattling off the names of Lord van Statten’s eighteen wives and his seven concubines better than Jack could.

            “I mean he always was a collector, he had these odd silver jousting helmets with handles, and every sort of weapon imaginable, but it was obvious that collecting women was his passion. Oh! And he had this horrible little page that followed him around, Adam was his name, but we all called him _beag radan_ ,” John rambled as his dismounted the truck. Rose was momentarily caugh off guard by John’s story and stumbled at the edge of the truck. John must of mistook her surpise at his story for the inability to hop down. He offered her his hand with a big smile.

“Beag radan?” Jack asked unloading his and Rose’s bags.

“Means ‘little rat’,” Rose and John both answered in unison then looked at each other in shock. John shrugged it off, but Rose struggled to shake it with similar ease.

“Did you teach him that?” she murmered to Jack, watching John scoop Tardis in to his arms.

“Teach him what?”

“Beag radan.”

Jack frowned. “I must have. Probably just glossed over it at some point, and he’s just filling in the blanks again. Everyone knows what a little bastard Adam was, seems pretty likely he earned the title of ‘little rat’. My question is how he’s able to keep up with the tiny details that I can’t even remember, yet it takes him hours to remember the difference between a sherry glass and a snifter?”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Rose forced a laugh. Neither John nor Jack knew how close to the truth the Little Rat story was. _Beag Radan_ wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was more of an inside joke for those that dwelled within the palace walls. It had to be pure coincidence that John’s version was recited as if he really had been there. Then again, Rose thought to herself, maybe he had been. Perhaps he had been one of the servants or stable hands? No that couldn’t be it; only a handful of workers made it out that night alive and they would have to be very foolish to remain anywhere near Gallifrey. So maybe he was the son of a duke, or a young page to a wealthy lord? She sighed in frustration. She couldn’t deny how vivid his descriptions were becoming and as each day passed, they seemed to become even more realistic, but she had no idea how it came to be. It had to be a good thing, right? John would win over the hearts of the Grand Duke and his niece, he would live on happily with his new family, and she and Jack would be able to live out the rest of their days as the wealthy heroes that reunited a grandfather and grandson. This was excatly what she had been working towards for years, and yet...

“You coming, Rosie?” Jack called back to her, interrupting her musings.

Rose realized how far she had fallen behind, but just as she was about to jog up to them, a flash of blue caught her eye in a shop window. An idea struck her.

“I’ll be right there, I just want to check something,” Rose told them quickly before dashing into the shop.


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You give a bow.  
> What happens now?  
> Her hand receives a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Words are not enough to express my gratitude.

With her new purchase carefully wrapped and tucked into her luggage, Rose managed to leap onto the bus just as it was about to leave.

“What was that all about? Cutting it pretty close don’t you think?” John slid over next to the window to free up the space next to him.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.” She winked with a tongue-touched grin. For a brief moment, she could have sworn John’s eyes lingered on her lips a little longer than usual. He looked away too quickly for her to really catch it, though she thought she saw his ears take on a pink-ish hue. She couldn’t help the swooping sensation in her stomach.

“So, where’s Tardis?” Rose tried to recover.

“They wouldn’t let her on the bus,” John said. “Some lady complained when we were getting on. Something about her being smelly and having fleas. Tardis most certainly doesn’t have fleas! She may need a bath, but I think we all do at this point.”

“What?” Rose screeched in panic. She ignored the annoyed stares of people turning around to look at her.

“I know! She’s the one whose smelly, if you ask me. It’s like she uses smelling salts as a perfume. And how is it that her dog gets to ride without question? And up in the front seat, too.” John glared at a posh looking old woman with a big feathered hat and a little dog with a pushed in face at the front of the bus.

Rose jumped to her feet. “So you just left her there?”

“Left who there? The smelly old lady? She hit me with her purse and called Tardis a flea-ridden mutt when she tried to play with her ugly little dog, she can stay right-“

“Not the old lady, John,” Rose whispered angrily, smacking John’s arm. Tardis was just a puppy; how could he leave her behind without a second thought? They could have found another way to get to the ship! “Tardis! Where did you leave her? We have to get off this bus!”

“Okay, now I’m confused.”

“Tardis,” Rose gritted out through her teeth trying to keep her emotions at bay. “You left her behind!”

“What? No, I didn’t, look.”

It was Rose’s turn to be confused. “What?”

John grabbed her hand and pulled her back down to her seat. He flicked his eyes downwards.

For the first time Rose noticed that he carefully held a swaddled bundle of material in his arms. He was very slowly rocking it back and forth as if it contained a baby.

“After that old woman nearly got us kicked off the bus, Jack and I tried to figure out how to smuggle her on. She wouldn’t fit in our coats or the bags, and we thought about just waiting for the next bus, but then Tardis came over with this bit of material,” John said quietly in her ear. “I think you are rubbing off on her, because I’m pretty sure she took it from someone’s luggage.”

“That’s brilliant!”

“Well, that part she got from me,” John preened like a proud parent.

Rose rolled her eyes but returned his grin, feeling a bit chuffed herself. She sat back and let herself relax a bit. It was going to be a long bus ride, but the gentle rock of the bus was almost soothing. She finally felt the exhaustion of the past few days catching up to her. She had tried to sleep at the inn, but the sheets were like sandpaper and smelled like old soup (at least that was the excuse she made, because it definitely wasn’t wayward thoughts about the man in the room across the hall).

“How is it that you and Jack know so much about Prince Theta?” John asked suddenly.

Rose was instantly wide-awake. Her stomach sank. It was a question she hadn’t been looking forward to answering, but John was clever, so she knew he would ask it sooner or later. She had just been hoping more for later.

“And don’t tell me it’s because you make it your business to know. We’ve already done that part,” John bumped her shoulder playfully.

Rose bit her lip. She had no idea where or how to begin. Her first instinct was to lie or change the subject, but John had been through enough of her lies and deserved the truth for once.

“It’s okay,” John said quietly. “You don’t have to tell me. I was just curious. But you know what they say about curiosity and killing cats.”

He offered her a shy smile before going back to gazing out the darkened window. Rose noted the poorly concealed disappointment that clung to the edges of his expression. She sighed. Okay, maybe she could at least tell him part of the truth. Not lie, exactly, but just leave a few blanks. She swore to herself she would fill them in if he wanted one day (if he stuck around, a voice remarked in her mind).

“Most of the documents about the Royal Family were destroyed during the revolution,” Rose said in a hushed voice. John turned back to look at her, he was clearly surprised she was answering him. Well, that made two of them. 

“But a few of those documents managed to survive. It wasn’t necessarily the papers that contained all the information; many of them were scorched and ripped beyond recognition anyways. But the people that held on to them, they had the real stories. Because they lived them.

“Hundreds of people walked in and out of the lives of the Royal Family over the years, whether they were visiting nobility, or just those that dwelled beneath the palace floors and in hidden staircases, but each and every one of those people had a story. And those stories can never really be burned by flames, exaggerated and used to manipulate, yes, but not destroyed completely.

“But, the government saw any information about the Royal Family as a weapon against them. Words are very powerful things, they can build up and tear down an entire ruling power in a single day, so the wisest thing to do was get out.”

Rose paused, waiting for John to interject with a comment or a question like he usually would, but he remained uncharacteristically quiet. His hand however, managed to find its way to cover hers. She wasn’t sure if the lazy circles he was tracing on her wrist were absentminded or deliberate on his part, but it was still soothing either way. It tethered her, allowed her to retreat into the darkness of her past, but kept her from drowning in it.

“And despite all of this, a few foolish souls stuck around. They hid in plain sight.”

“Why?” John croaked softly.

“Some stayed because they wanted to prove a point, others had no where else to go, but all of them had nothing left to lose. No one left to lose.”

Again Rose waited for John to prompt more from her, but he remained quiet. He appeared to be lost in his own thoughts or perhaps trying to fill in the blanks of the vague story she gave him. She knew it wasn’t much, if anything at all, and probably only raised more questions. But John managed to surprise her yet again.

“And…and you?” his voice was barely a whisper. Had she not seen his lips move, Rose wouldn’t have known he said anything at all.

“A bit of everything, I suppose,” Rose matched his hushed tone after a moment. “Though I never exactly had much to begin with.”

“There’s me.”

Rose was cut off guard by the sincerity in his voice. She inhaled sharply and startled John out of whatever haze he had been under.

“And Jack!” John exclaimed a little too loudly as if to cover up a blunder. “You’ve got Jack! And Tardis!”

Rose couldn’t help the smile that sprung to her lips at his babbling. Despite an almost intimate moment between them being shattered yet again, an odd sort of warmth flared in her chest. It was a feeling she had been experiencing more and more since being around John, but she had yet to put a name to it. She knew the feeling could never be allowed to fan into something more, but just this once, she might have allowed herself to bask in it. Just a little.

~*~

The salty air of the nearby sea tickled the inside of John’s nose. It was so different compared to the atmosphere of Gallifrey. He took a deep breath and filled his lungs with fresh air. Ever since leaving his home (if he could even call it that), everything had become much brighter. Now, some would say it was because he wasn’t constantly surrounded by a thick soup of smoke belched out by the factories and could actually see past his own hand for once, but John would argue it was so much more than that. No matter what would become of him in London, there was no going back. Jack and Rose were right when they had said there was nothing left for him in Gallifrey. When he had initially agreed, it was because he had no friends or family back there for him, so there was no point in going back. There was nothing to lose. Now, he realized that he mentally would never be able to revert into the man he once was. He had everything to gain.

In the few days they had been traveling, John felt as though his eyes had been finally opened to the world around him. He had only been given a mere taste of what was out there, but he craved more; the good, the bad, the ugly, the…his eyes landed on Rose who was offering a bit of biscuit to Tardis. He watched Rose’s head tilt back in laughter as Tardis offered he thanks in the form of a big wet lick up the side of Rose’s face.

_The beautiful._

“She sure is!” Jack boomed joyfully appearing at John’s side. John didn’t realize he had said that out loud and felt the blood drain from his face. “She use to be a private yacht before she was sold into the servitude.”

The ship. Jack was talking about the ship. John breathed a sigh of relief. “Servitude?”

“Oh yes,” Jack nodded grimly. “She was the queen of the sea, a picture of elaborate elegance and entertainment. But after the Revolution, Gallifrey’s new government sold off anything that was deemed to be ‘ostentatious’. The champagne was dumped and the artwork sold off to the highest bidder. She is doomed to live out her existence transporting lonely travellers from one port to the next. And to think, she was once owned by…”

“Lord Copper!” John remembered easily. Despite the amount of information that had been crammed into his brain in a short period of time, everything seemed to be right at the surface of his mind. He had no idea no idea how he was able to, but it seemed as though he had to do was reach in a pluck out the right memory. The stories he had been told had become so vivid, almost calling to him. It was almost as if they had been there the whole time. He no longer saw a painted portrait of Prince Theta, but rather an image that looked more and more like him. “Though I believe the legendary Christmas parties were credited to his granddaughter, Astrid.”

John looked away from the ship back to Jack. He was staring quizzically at him, and John’s stomach sunk. Perhaps those stories weren’t so vivid after all.

“Sorry, was that wrong?” John wracked his brain for another possible answer, but came up with nothing. He had been so sure it was Lord Copper and his granddaughter. He sighed in frustration.

“There you two are!” Rose raced over with Tardis bouncing happily at her feet. “They’re starting to board.”

“Right. I’ll meet you over there,” John muttered defeatedly and shuffled off to where everyone was lining up. He had a long night of brushing up on what was supposed to be his family history.

“What’s gotten into him?” Rose asked Jack after she watched Tardis hurry after John.

“Did Lord Copper ever have any relatives? Like nieces or nephews, or any grandchildren?” Jack asked.

“Not to my knowledge, no. At least not any blood relatives, though he did have a habit of taking people under his wing and sending them off to university or supporting them financially when they traveled abroad. Sort of championed them. He called them his grandchildren. Why?”

“Could there be a chance that any of them were named Astrid?”

“Astrid Perth. She was a maid in his manor, but she ended up becoming one of his ‘grandchildren’ after she saved his life. They ended up traveling all over the world together.”

Jack nodded, lost in his own thoughts. He had honestly forgotten Lord Copper’s name, and John must have thought it was another test. It was an answer that was probably written down in his notes about Theta’s family, but the anecdote about Astrid, even he hadn’t known about that. How could John have known?

~*~

John sat on the cold wooden floor of their small cabin. His hair was still damp from the quick wash he had managed to grab in the wash basin. The water was tepid at best, but it was clean. A hodgepodge of books and timelines were strewn before him covering what little floor space there was. Even with his knees tucked up to his chest, he still had to spread his study material onto to the lower level cot.

He had honestly thought he was getting the hang of this whole Theta thing, but after his blunder of incorrectly reciting the previous owner of the ship, he realized that maybe he had counted his eggs before they hatched. He didn’t think he would be asked such trivial information, but there must have been a reason Jack had asked him. After the way Jack and Rose had described Donna, she definitely didn’t seem like the type to leave a stone unturned. Even the most seemingly insignificant facts all served a purpose: proving that he was Theta. Anything Theta would know, he had to know and be ready to answer. Would he be able to take anything Donna threw at him? Less than a day ago, he would have welcomed the challenge with open arms. Now? He was worried, and not just for himself. His thoughts drifted to Jack and Rose. What would happen to them if he failed? Would they ever want to see him again? Would Rose ever want to see him again?

“What the hell happened in here? Looks like a bloody storm got a hold of you!” John’s eyes barely left his notes long enough to see Rose tiptoe around the sea of papers and plunk herself on the only free spot of the bed.

Rose looked around their cramped living quarters. The room was windowless, but did have a small yellow light that hung from the ceiling and one above a weathered vanity and wash basin. Beneath the flurry of papers, there were two narrow beds stacked atop each other against one wall that looked as though they may collapse under any sort of rash movement. It wasn’t the mess or the decor that unsettled her, but the current sate of the man sitting in it. A few hours earlier, John had been laughing and teasing her about her breakfast choices, but now it was like a different man sat before her. He had a deep crease between his brows and a pen between his teeth as he poured over hundreds of years of history. Even beneath the early stages of a beard, Rose could see the dimples set into his cheek, which, she had come to learn, was not a good sign. She tried to lighten the mood a little. “Really should speak the housekeeping about the state of our accommodations. This room is not fit for a prince.”

When John only responded with a grunt, Rose knew she was going to have to up the ante a little bit. From within her suitcase, she pulled out a package wrapped in brown paper. She tossed it unceremoniously in John’s lap. He visibly startled; the pen tumbled from his lips onto the floor.

“What’s this?” John fingered the neat edges of the parcel as if it might explode at any second.

“It’s a box.”

“A box?”

“Yep,” Rose said popping the ‘p’ at the end. “But, the thing with boxes, is that they usually contain something.”

“For me?” John asked, still not entirely sure what was going on, but a tingle of excitement and curiosity flicked through him.

Rose bit the inside of her cheek in an effort to keep from laughing at the ridiculous man in front of her. She couldn’t, however, help rolling her eyes. “No, it’s actually for a friend. I thought your lap was a magic doorway to another dimension. YES, John! The bloody box is for you!”

At a painfully slow pace, John began to undo the wrapping of the package. He could feel Rose’s eyes on him, but he just couldn’t bring himself to speed up. No one had ever given him a real gift before, at least not that he could truly remember. He wanted to savour this moment, as silly as it sounded. The twine that was tied around the box was coarse to the touch, but the paper was smooth and crisp. It didn’t look to be wrapped in haste with each edge folded perfectly tight against the side. With a gentle touch, he slipped his fingers under the seams and carefully tore open the paper.

Once the outer layer had been removed, John took in the unmarked box. To most people, it would have been rather unremarkable, but to John, it was one of the most remarkable things he had ever seen. It was about the size of a small suitcase, but thinner. It didn’t weigh much, but it still contained something of substance. With the same careful determination, John lifted the lid. A thin white layer of tissue paper was his only remaining barrier between him and the object inside.

“Do you want a hand or…” Rose sighed, clearly waiting for him to finish.

“Right, right, sorry!” John finally picked up the pace and tore into the paper. His breath caught in his throat.

“After that nightmarish train ride through hell, you lost everything,” Rose started to explain bashfully with a pink hue beginning to tint her cheeks. “And I couldn’t help but feel that it was sort of my fault.”

John’s throat worked as he tried to tell Rose she was wrong, he had all he needed right here, but no sound came out.

“Anyways, you can’t go meeting the Grand Duke of Gallifrey in a tattered suit, so I thought I pick up something that was a bit more ‘Prince Theta’. And it was the least I could do after you doctored up my hands.”

John didn’t know what to say. His mouth had gone dry at the kind gesture, but he had to say something, anything.

“It’s blue,” he blurted.

“Oi! What’s wrong with blue?”

“Nothing!” John back peddled realizing how rude and ungrateful he had sounded. “It’s just different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Definitely good different,” John amended. “I’ve always been stuck in the same brown colour, which I love, and I love my suit, but I’ve just never seen anything so blue before.”

Rose finally smiled back at him. “Well I bet it will look even better on,” Both her and John’s eyes went wide when her words sunk in. It was her turn to back peddle. “I mean, it will be better than a torn up old suit and…oh just put it on! I’ll be back in ten.”

John gazed at the sapphire material folded neatly in the box. There appeared to be a new white oxford and red tie with little blue flowers embroidered into the fabric (roses, he noted with amusement). He had never seen such a magnificent ensemble, let alone held one. And it was his! He couldn’t help but think it must have cost a small fortune. Guilt plucked at his heart. He didn’t deserve it. It was a suit cut for a royal, and he was John. Just John.

“Ah, so that’s what she was being so secretive about.” John jumped at the sound of Jack’s voice. He leaned against the door with a knowing smirk. “I knew she was planning on getting you something to wear to meet Donna, but that is quite the frock!”

“Doesn’t anyone know how to bloody knock?” John grumbled and got to his feet. He carefully set the box on the spot Rose had vacated.

“Just dropping off my bag, your Highness.” Jack held up his suitcase as if to validate his excuse. “Unless you need a hand with anything?” he added with a wink. John blushed.

“Out!”

~*~

Clad in just his new trousers and an undershirt, John stared at his unkempt appearance. Sure, he would cut a dashing picture in his new suit, but his hair was a disaster and it looked as though a small mammal had taken up residence on his face and neck. He caught the reflection of Jack’s luggage in the mirror. Jack was…a well groomed man, surely he would have something to tame his hair, and maybe even some scissors for his beard.

Success came in the form of a small comb, a jar of hair slick, and a daunting straight razor. He opted for his hair first. It was still wet, so he was able to easily comb and slick it back using the oily gel. After parting slightly off centre like he had seen many polished looking men in passing, his gaze fell upon the shining razor before him. He flicked it open; the quiet _snick_ of blade was deafening in his ears. He gulped.

He opted to start at the neck and work his way up. Squeezing his eyes shut, he brought the cold blade until it made contact with his skin.

“What the hell are you doing?”

The door slammed loudly, startling him. The razor slipped from his fingers and clattered into the basin below. He whipped around to see Rose looking at him with wide eyes.

“I was just…I borrowed Jack’s razor and…” he trailed off, gesturing blindly behind him hoping that would help explain instead. Rose just stared at him as if he’d dribbled on his shirt. Was she angry for rifling through Jack’s stuff without asking? “I’m sorry, I should have-” his apology was cut short at Rose’s sudden burst of laughter.

“What?” he asked over her laughs. As he watched her try (and fail) to get a hold of herself, John became instantly aware of his undressed state. He self-consciously tried to wrap his arms around himself.

“Your hair,” she finally gasped out. “What happened to your hair?”

John touched his slicked back tresses and grimaced at the now dried, crusty texture of it. “I just thought I’d experiment a little?” he offered trying for nonchalance. It was no use. Rose was soon howling with laughter again. As beautiful as the sound was, he couldn’t help the hurt that crept up on him. He knew she meant no harm so he tried to push the feeling aside, but it was no use. He turned away from Rose with slumped shoulders.

Rose noticed the change in John’s demeanour immediately. In all honesty, when she came back to their cabin, she had expected him to still be sprawled out on the floor where she left him. But then she opened the door and saw him in nothing but his new trousers and vest top. The trousers fit him like a glove, she noted with a bit of pride and a suddenly dry mouth. And that’s when she noticed the straight razor in his hand coming dangerously close to his throat. He clearly hadn’t the foggiest idea of how to use the bloody thing, so she decided to step in. The second she saw his hair, however, the razor became the least of her worries.

“John?” she asked softly, gently touching his arm. When he didn’t pull away, she pressed on. “John, look at me. Please?”

John turned back to face her, but he wouldn't meet her eyes. “It's not you,” Rose insisted earnestly. “It's... the hair.”

Apparently, that was not the explanation he had been looking for. John shrugged her hand off and turned his back to her again. Rose sighed and sat on the bed. “I'm sorry,” she said quietly. She had obviously hurt him, and she didn't really know how to fix it, but an apology seemed like a good place to start. “I came back half expecting to have to force you into that suit, and seeing you look so...”

“Ridiculous?” John filled in for her with a harsh scoff.

“Different,” Rose corrected and walked back over to him. “I was a little caught off guard by the hair, but I shouldn't have laughed, I'm sorry. If that's how you want to style your hair, then I should be more respectful of your decision. Can I try again?”

“No, you're right,” John said and finally turned back to her. He looked so utterly exhausted with everything. Rose's heart squeezed painfully as she watched him flop down on the single wooden chair in the corner. “The hair is ridiculous.  I just wanted to make myself look more like a prince. You've worked so hard to give me the brain of Prince Theta and then you went and bought me this magnificent suit that I don't even deserve, the least I could do is make an attempt at fixing...this,” He gestured to his head with a grimace.

“May I?” Rose asked, picking up the discarded comb. John nodded, some more light coming back to his face.

Rose carefully worked the comb though his slicked hair. “First of all, you deserve it,” she chastised him quietly. “You may not believe it yet, but I do. I believe that you can do this, anything really, because I believe in you.”

John's breath hitched at such a heartfelt confession. He had a rebuttal all ready to go when she told him that he was worthy of the suit, but every intelligent word died on his tongue when she said she believed in him. The words etched themselves into his heart; they were like a tonic to soothe his earlier feelings of unease. No one had ever made him feel like that before. A sudden urge to kiss her washed over him.

“Secondly,” Rose said with a slightly more strained voice. “How much of this product did you put in your hair? It's like you glued it to your head! I think we're going to have to shave it off.”

John choked, his hands flying to his hair. It was still sticky, but no longer plastered to his head.

“Only joking,” Rose grinned appearing in front of him again, this time holding the straight razor. “Although, I can definitely think of something else that needs shaving...”

John knew he was in desperate need of a shave. Though, he wasn't sure how he felt about pressing sharpened steel to his throat on a moving ship. He eyed the razor wearily, but took a deep breath and made to grab it from Rose.

“I saw the way you were handling this thing,” she tutted holding the device out of his reach. “I don't even want to think about what might've happened had I walked in a minute later, so you can stay right where you are.”

John blinked. Perhaps he was reading too much into her words, but it sounded an awful like she was scared he would hurt himself. She had said it pretty offhandedly while rifling through Jack's bag and didn't seemed to be bothered or flustered by what she'd said, so maybe she hadn't meant anything by it. Maybe she just didn't want to clean up a horrible mess? On the other (slightly more hopeful) hand, she had made the comment so soon after saying that she believed in him. And that, he knew, was not offhanded. It was like she had said on the bus: words are powerful things. While she may not be attempting to overthrow the government, they held no less impact.

“Here,” she tossed him the cloth he had used after his wash up.  It was warm, he noted, though he wasn't sure how. “Put it on your face,” she explained when he simply looked at it. “Hot water isn't readily flowing around here, so we'll just have to make do with the radiator.”

The cabin grew quiet. John actually thought that Rose had left, but then he heard her sit on the bed. He listened to her shuffle around with something before his resolve broke and adjusted the cloth so he could see what she was up to. She was carefully pulling the blade across and long strip of leather she had tied to the bed frame. She had her bottom lip caught between her teeth in a deep look of concentration, and that's when John finally noticed the rest of her appearance. She had pinned her hair up loosely so it left her face and neck uncovered. She already discarded her large overcoat and scarf when encountered France’s warmer weather, which left her in a woolen jumper over a pair of men's trousers that were far too long for her, but all of that was gone in favour of a light blue dress with bits of white lace that capped over her shoulders. It wasn’t overly fancy and seemed to be a few sizes too big, but John could have sworn that his heart skipped a beat at the sight of her.

“Blimey, you look beautiful,” he breathed, unable to help himself.

Rose jumped a little at the sound of his voice. She looked over to see a single brown eye staring at her. No. He was more than staring. The eye she could see looked a little glazed over; almost as if he'd been entranced by her. She wasn't even sure if he knew what he'd said. She distracted herself by mixing the bar of shaving soap and waited for the penny to drop.

“Considering,” he squeaked as an afterthought.

“Considering what?” Rose challenged back. She snatched the towel off his face to look him square in the eye. She was pleased to see his cheeks a little flushed.

“Considering that...” John fumbled for words. Rose had a mischievous smirk that mixed wonderfully with the glint of determination in her eyes. Once again, her beauty caught him off guard. “That you're all...pink and yellow.”

“Right.” Rose rolled her eyes, but he could tell she was fighting back a smile. “I may be pink and yellow, but you're sort of brown and foamy.”

“Foamy?” John's question was muffled as Rose swiped the frothy shave brush across his mouth. “Oi!” he blurted in indignation.

“See? Brown and foamy! Though I think something’s missing,” Rose stepped back and looked at him as an artist would their canvas. She tapped her lip with the handle of the brush, and for a fleeting moment, John actually felt a pang very similar to jealousy simmer just below the surface. Over a bloody shave brush!

“I'll show you what's missing,” John growled and all but pounced on Rose knocking her onto her back. He smeared his foam covered face against Rose's cheek, leaving a trail of froth behind. He may have imagined it, but he could have sworn his lips tingled when they came in contact with her skin.

“John!” Rose squealed as he continued to wipe the shave soap onto her face.

She gained the upper hand again when she swirled the still lathered brush into his ear, but the victory was short lived. John declared an all-out war and began to mercilessly tickle her ribs. Her breathless giggles were music to his ears. Distracted by her lilting petals of laughter, he suddenly found himself lying flat on his back with Rose straddling his waist and her fingers beginning their own delicious torture. His own deep baritone laughs mingled pleasantly with her more feminine voice.

“My, my, my,” Rose purred with a devious grin that could melt the polar ice caps. “How the tables have turned.”

She reached for the mug of shaving soap and was poised for another frothy assault, when someone in the cabin next to them banged loudly on the wall.

“Barneymug you tart elsewhere, mate,” their neighbour's shouts were like a shock to the system. John suddenly realized the position he and Rose were in; the warm, pleasant weight of her on top of him, the softness of her skin, her dilated pupils, the rapid rise and fall of her chest...  “Some of us are trying to sleep!”

In the blink of an eye, Rose was off him and standing in front of the door. The pink glow of her cheeks from earlier had deepened and spread to the rest of her face and down to her chest.

“I'll just...I'll just leave you to it then,” she panted looking down at her feet.

John looked up just in time to see the door close behind her.


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's one-two-three and suddenly  
> I see it at a glance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for a brief mention of past non-graphic violence and injuries in the second half of the chapter.  
> As always, Greatspacedustbin, this is for you!

A weathered chessboard sat between her and Jack on the deck of the ship, but Rose's mind was miles away from their game.

After Jack had returned from dropping off his bag in the room, he handed Rose a little blue frock. If John had to look the part, he explained, so did she, though he didn't explain where he got the thing from. The dress being stolen, borrowed, or plucked from the sea was neither here nor there in Rose's mind, it was John's reaction to it and what had transpired from the reaction. Their playful banter was becoming far less playful and more...intimate. Before, it was just words coupled with a harmless nudge of the elbow or a teasing grin, but now it was stolen glances at lips and calculated brushes of hands. The memory of hovering above John flashed in her mind. Goosebumps rose unbidden at the thought of his fingers dancing across her ribs again. But the flare of heat she had felt was quickly snuffed out by the reminder of their neighbours banging on the wall. She supposed she should be thankful for the interruption before they got too carried away (before he did something he’d regret, a voice in her mind sneered). They had been precariously toeing the line for a while now, pushing each other just a little bit further each time, but had they now stepped over it into much more dangerous territory?

“Checkmate,” Jack said snatching her little wooden king from the board.

“Hmm?” Rose shook her head to clear away the mess of thoughts.

A knowing look crossed Jack's face as if he could read her mind, but a quiet clearing of a throat stopped him from commenting. His eyes shifted to something over Rose's shoulder and the smirk that seemed to be constantly crossing his features lately, appeared again.

“I see you managed to not decapitate yourself with my razor.” Jack got to his feet.

“I’m making an effort not to be insulted.”

Rose turned to look as well and felt all the breath vanish from her lungs. John stood tall against orange and pink glow from the setting sun. He had managed to successfully rid himself of his beard and had donned the rest of his new suit. He seemed to agree with her on styling his hair, and left it effortlessly tousled. The only thing that appeared to be out of place were the old, worn-out trainers on his feet. And yet, it actually seemed to complete John's entire look rather well. John's gaze drifted to Rose and he quirked an expectant eyebrow. Unfortunately, the only response Rose could manage was to stare at him while trying to push aside the butterflies that had taken up residence in her stomach.

“You are now dressed for a ball!” Jack declared gleefully. “It is time to learn to dance for one as well. Rose?”

“Oh. I don’t know, I'm not very good,” Rose conceded with a shrug. “I’m sure we could find someone better to help out.”

“Oh, and do you think they taught us how to master the Versailles Glide at the orphanage?” John remarked with a snort.

“I should hope not,” Jack interjected. “Considering the Versailles Glide isn't even a dance, but a style of walking for ladies in the court of Louis XVI. Now, can we please get on with it? You'll both find your feet at the end of your legs. You may care to move them.”

“Bit pushy, isn't he?” John whispered out of the corner of his mouth while Jack had his back turned to fiddle with a small gramophone he'd borrowed from the observation deck. The early strains of a waltz tinkled through the air. Jack grinned in triumph before turning back to Rose and nudging her towards John.

With limbs stiff as a board, John placed a trembling hand on Rose's shoulder and the other in her hand.  They began to awkwardly sway offbeat of the music. Rose attempted to take the lead in order to help John relax and get a feel for the steps and save her toes from further brutalities, but he still kept her at an uncomfortable distance. He counted his steps under his breath and appeared to be trying his best to bore a hole through his feet with his eyes.

“I'm sorry about earlier,” John apologized quietly, still staring at the ground. “You know…back in the room.”

“No, it was my fault,” Rose assured. “I shouldn't have...” she trailed off.

“Shouldn't have what?” He finally turned his eyes to her. He was genuinely confused by her apology.

“What the hell are you two doing?” Jack sauntered in and broke them apart, not that he had to work very hard. There was an full arm's length and a thick cloud of stubbornness between them. “This is a waltz! It was considered one of the most risqué dances of its time! It was thought to be so pleasurable, that couples would become completely intoxicated and lost in each other's arms. So, that means, you are going to have to get a _little_ closer.”

Rose and John were pushed together until their chests were not only touching, but completely flush with each other. John felt Rose's racing heart right next to his making it seem like he had two. The syncopated beats made difficult to tell whose was pounding faster. He still wasn't sure what he should be doing, but overthinking didn't seem to be helping, so taking a leap of faith, he just let his body take over. He enfolded Rose's hand in his and placed his other hand between her shoulder blades, pulling her even closer. He chanced a glance down at Rose and his breath caught in his throat. She offered a shy smile that gave him all the encouragement he needed. He waited for the music to loop around again, and then began to move in slow, sweeping steps.

“That suit fits you well,” Rose said after a beat. “I mean it looked nice in the shop, but it definitely looks better on you.”

“I guess you could say it suits me,” John joked and Rose couldn't help but laugh at the pun.

"I can't believe you just said that."

John grinned but quickly sobered. “That dress does look really beautiful on you...I-you...you should wear it.”

“I am wearing in,” Rose giggled as John spun her around in a fluid motion that left her breathless.

“Right, yes, yes you are! I was just trying to give you a...um...”

“A compliment?” she suggested.

“Of course. Yes, that's it. A Compliment.”

Tardis hopped up onto Jack's lap while watched his two friends sway and glide across the deck of the ship as if they had been doing it for years. He couldn't help the warmth that spread through his chest. These past few days he had noticed how much they had changed. Rose had always been radiant, both inside and out, always able to see the good in almost everyone, but until just recently, she never really had a spark in her eyes. Jack had personally watched that spark grow into a full-blown flame that would, without a doubt, consume her. And John. The young man had come so far! After countless hours of mental and physical grooming, he was truly shaping up to be quite the prince. And perhaps a bit of a Prince Charming… Jack didn't miss the way he looked at Rose; he was a goner from the moment he had taken her hand. They both had a light shine from within whenever they were together. And that's when it hit him. _They were falling in love._

“Oh, Tardis, what have we done?”

“I’m starting to feel a little dizzy,” John whispered with a soft smile, his eyes never leaving Rose’s.

“Me too,” Rose returned his grin as they slowed to a stop.

“Maybe we should stop spinning.”

 “We have stopped.”

“Oh,” John looked around them as if to make sure they had stopped. “It appears we have. Is dancing always like this?”

“Is it always like what?”

“I feel impossibly light, and I know that my feet are on the ground, but I feel like I would float away if I let go of you. It’s as if I’m in a…” John couldn’t seem to find the right word to describe what he was feeling. A tinge of pink coated his cheeks and Rose couldn’t help reaching up and tracing the faint dusting of freckles.

“A stupor,” Rose finished for him, because she knew exactly how he felt. She felt the colour rising in her own cheeks to mirror John’s.

“Yes,” John breathed, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw and eyes drifting down to her lips before he slowly leaned in.

Rose’s eyes drifted closed as she let her body give into the spell John had had woven around them. It wasn’t until she felt his breath puff across her lips that she snapped out of her daze. Her eyes shot open. She couldn’t. She wanted…no. This wasn’t about what she wanted. She _couldn’t_.

“I-I think you’re doing just fine,” Rose offered a tight grin and reluctantly stepped out of John’s embrace. She shivered at the loss of his warmth, finally feeling the brisk sea air for the first time.

“Rose?” John’s arms lingered in the air for a moment before he ruefully lowered them to his side.

“I have to…I should…We should…”

“We should be heading off to bed,” Jack mercifully came to her rescue. “Long day tomorrow, and all that.”

~*~

John knew he should be sleeping, but after everything that had happened, that was about to happen, sleep was not going to be an easy feat. In the next few hours, he would be standing in front of the Grand Duke’s niece trying to convince her that he was Gallifrey’s lost prince- something he was still trying to convince himself off. And, really, that _should_ have been the biggest concern on his mind. But it wasn’t. His thoughts lingered on a much more complicated matter. Every time he closed his eyes, the memory of Rose in his arms as they danced across the deck of the ship flashed before his eyes. He wasn't sure if time had slowed or sped up when they were together. The sensation of her breath still burned across his lips; it was as if there had been a magnetic force that pulled him in and wrapped him the desire to kiss her. And oh, how he wanted to kiss her. For a fleeting moment, it even seemed as though she was going to kiss him, maybe she wanted it too, but as soon as that moment had been upon them, it had ended. She ran. He had hoped she would be back in the cabin when he returned, he could apologize and set things right between them, but the small room was cold, dark, and empty.

John sighed miserably. He had really cocked it up this time. While he hadn't a clue how he was going to mend things with Rose, he knew he needed to try. And as luck would have it, he might get his chance sooner than later, he thought as the door to their cabin creaked open.

"Rose?" He hedged hopefully. His heart sank when it was Jack that walked through the door instead. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Please try to contain your excitement, John.” Jack stood aside to let Tardis in before closing the door behind him.

“Sorry, I just thought-“

“Oh, I know what you thought. She’ll be along shortly, don’t worry. I only hope I can be a suitable replacement until she returns.”

“Until she returns? Is she all right?” John jumped to his feet ready to find Rose.

“Fine, she’s fine, John,” Jack chuckled. “She’s just putting some final touches on tomorrow’s plans. You on the other hand. Are you all right?”

“Me? I’m always all right.”

“C’mere,” Jack said sitting down and pulling his bag over to him. John joined him on the lower bunk as the other man pulled out an object wrapped in a bit of cloth. “I want to show you something.”

John watched as Jack unwrapped the object. It must have been something of great value, for he removed the protective fabric with a delicate touch. John’s eyes widened at the sight of a worn blue box.

“Was this-was this his?”

“Yeah…well yours, I suppose. Beautiful, isn’t it?” Jack asked.

“It’s remarkable,” John breathed reaching out to touch the circular carvings. There was something about the box. He felt a strange pull towards the object, it beckoned to him with an odd song of familiarity. He was caught off guard by the sudden influx of melancholy that gripped his heart. “And sad.”

“Sad?”

“Lost. It feels lost. It was special,” John’s fingers brushed across a unique rounded metal indentation on the top of the box. He let his mind drift- to a memory, to another life, to another time, to something he wasn’t sure of.  “I think…I think it has something to do with a secret. Something about…sorry, you must think I’m mad,” John tried to cover his embarrassment with a laugh. He shook his head to clear the haze of odd visions and passed the box back to Jack, who rewrapped it securely back in its protective cloth.

“Nah, I don’t think you’re going crazy,” Jack said kindly. “I like to think that anything’s possible. After all, you taught Rose how to waltz.” He playfully bumped John’s shoulder and hummed the music they had danced to earlier. A small smile tugged at John’s lips.

An easy silence fell between them as John scratched Tardis behind the ear. The warmth of her soft fur between his fingers had a calming effect on him, and he felt some of his earlier worries melt away. However, one small thing still sat heavy on his shoulders.

“So,” he hedged awkwardly. He pulled out his fob watch and traced the long since memorized engravings trying to act as casual as he possibly could. “How did you and Rose end up meeting?” He was blatantly beating around the bush. He knew it, Jack knew it, hell, even a fast-asleep Tardis knew it.

Jack lounged back against the wall with his arms folded behind his head in the perfect picture of ease.

“We’re lovers.”

Well.

Straight and to the point it was then. It was like plunging into a lake of cold water, it was better to go head first and all at once, get it done and over with, though icy punch to the chest doesn’t hurt any less. There was a strange ringing in John’s ears and an odd fluttering in his stomach, but it wasn’t the same fluttering as before when he was dancing with Rose. It was painful, like the butterflies had suddenly sprouted knives on the tips of their wings. The room was suddenly too hot and too small.

“Oh,” he managed to squeak as he got to his feet. “That’s…good for you. I’m just gonna go get some fresh air.”

John gestured to the door without looking Jack in the eye. How could he? As each day passed he was becoming closer and closer with another man’s lover, and he was sure Jack could see right through him.

“John, wait.”

John gipped the doorknob but remained rooted to the spot. He stared at the chipped paint of the door and tried to focus on controlling his breathing.

“Let’s go for a walk,” Jack said.

The cold bite of the wind snaked its way through the baggy pyjamas Jack had lent him.  It only served to chill his heart further. He should have known that there was something between Rose and Jack. The way they smiled at each other and always seemed to know what the other was thinking, it had been staring him right in the face the whole time, and he didn’t see it. Or maybe he just chose to ignore it, a voice in the back of his mind said. Jack flirted with everyone, maybe Rose was the same? Maybe they had one of those strange relationships where it was only about physical intimacy?

John’s head was spinning with the possibilities. He shouldn’t have agreed to go with Jack, he should have stayed in the confines of their cabin, he should have kept his big dumb gob shut! He gripped the railing of the ship hoping that the icy metal would ground him. It didn’t.

“Relax, John. I was only having you on.”

John clung to the barrier until his knuckles turned white, but he remained silent.

“Rose and I have a long history together. I’ve certainly had my ups and downs in life, the lowest probably being my forced removal from the Imperial Guard. Then again, when they knock you out and leave you for dead in the woods stripped of your rank and clothes, it’s probably not going to be a high for most people. But Rose...” he trailed off sadly.

“What…what happened?” John croaked still looking out over the churning black sea. The bright stars from earlier had vanished behind inky clouds. A storm was brewing.

“Her past before me is not my story to tell, John,” Jack murmured. John felt his heart sink a little bit further. “I can only speak of when we met.”

John finally turned to face Jack. The usual boyish grin that brightened his face was missing making him look ten years older.

“The day I met Rose, she was being arrested by the Imperial Guard. The official records report she was caught pit pocketing and selling prohibited goods on the black market. The new government had given total control of law and punishment to the Guard. They acted as judge, jury, and executioner, so to speak. They couldn’t publicly execute you unless you committed treason, not legally anyways. But that didn’t stop them from beating someone until they wished for death in a back alley. A wish they were more than happy to grant.”

John felt as though his throat was closing shut as he listened to Jack’s story. Rose found a young woman and her daughter being cornered by three burly guardsmen. She knew she should have just kept walking, the law prevented anyone from getting involved with disciplinary action, but she just couldn’t.  She had put up a hell of a fight and managed to distract the guards long enough for the mother and daughter to sneak away, but it wasn't enough of a fight to save herself. By the time Jack had found her, it was almost too late. Stripped to the waist, lying face down in the muddied snow with her arms shackled behind her back, Rose didn't stand a chance against three men twice her size wielding whips, canes, and clubs.

"A handful of broken bones, a split lip, and eyes swollen shut were her reward for trying to help someone," Jack bit out.

John envisioned a younger version of the Rose he knew placing herself between the guards and the mother and child. He could almost hear her telling the women stay calm, her warm smile offering a little comfort. He couldn’t help smile at the thought of her being so strong and brave, commanding the guards to leave them alone as if she were the one in charge. But then the gruesome image of Rose’s beautiful face marred by injuries flashed in his mind. He felt sick.

“And despite all of that, I know she would do it again in a heartbeat."

John nodded. He recalled how quickly she had stepped in and saved them on the train. She barely even knew him and Tardis, and she had willingly put her life on the line. No one had ever done anything like that for him. A warmth fluttered in his chest. In that moment, he knew he would do the same for her.

“It still took her a while to trust me after that, but even then, she still had my back. Her friendship is more important to me than any amount of money or glory.”

“So, you don’t love her?” he blurted out, needing to know before he let his heart get too carried away again.

“Of course I love her!” Jack laughed sadly. “It’s hard not to. She’s so full of love and compassion; it’s impossible to not get wrapped up in her spell. I would do anything for her, but it’s not a love out of romance.”

John could only nod his head in agreement, because that’s exactly what had happened to him. Rose had simply bewitched him. He may not have a clue about his past, but frankly, he didn’t really care anymore. He only cared if his future had Rose in it.

“Your love for her, on the other hand.”

“What?” it was like the floor had bottomed out beneath him. John snapped his head to look up at the other man. “What did you say?”

“The wind’s picking up, I think we should head back inside, don’t you?” Jack asked as though nothing had happened. “It wouldn’t do to have the one true prince of Gallifrey snotting all over the Grand Duke or his niece tomorrow. I’d be more afraid of Donna, actually. She’d have your head.”

Maybe he’d misheard Jack; probably his over-active subconscious playing tricks on him. Horrible, awful tricks.

~*~

“He’s out there,” Davros hissed to his group of minions. “He’s still out there thanks to your failures!” A bright flash of lightning bolted across the sky highlighting the deranged rage on his face. The shadows of his sunken eyes and cheeks looked even more sinister in the blinding light. Even the loud crack of thunder cowered to him.

He turned to look out over the edge of the cliff and watched the ship heave and sway in the harsh winds and icy rain. Perhaps he could just conjure up enough of a storm and sink the ship to the bottom of the ocean. It would pass as a happy little accident thanks to a stronger than usual storm. It would be relatively easy, but Theta didn’t deserve easy. Not after the humiliation he and his family had caused. Suddenly, he had an idea.

“What is the most humiliating way to die?” he asked the others.

“Burnt alive!”

“Electrocuted!”

“Poisoned!”

All of the suggestions were perfectly adequate, and would be sufficient in any other situation, but not for Theta.

The Madame gracefully glided forward, her blonde hair only blowing slightly in the harsh winds. She smiled serenely at Davros before she leaned in a whispered into his ear.

“Oh,” he listened to her plan and smile of his own bloomed. “Oh my dear, that is much more enticing!”

The Madame leaned back, her expression transformed into a malevolent grin. She watched as Davros processed the possibilities of her plan.

“That is truly cruel,” Davros rewarded the Madame with a kiss to the cheek. “Go. And do not fail me.”

The Madam nodded. With a delicate curl of her hand, smoky images began to collect around her- rolling hills of crimson grass, silver leafed trees that twinkled in the sunlight, the smiling face of a young blonde woman, a white wall. The images continued to swirl around her until she had become completely engulfed by the smoke. With a final wicked grin to Davros, the Madame and her cloud were blown down towards the ship, down towards the soon to be final resting place of Prince Theta.

“Pleasant dreams to you, your Highness.”


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the dark of the night I was tossing and turning  
> And the nightmare I had was as bad as can be...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wee bit of angst. And when I say wee...well...sorry...  
> Warning for the dreamt death of a character and a near death experience as a result of that dream, but no one actually dies.  
> There is a healthy dose of fluff at the end as an apology.

"John, John my angel."

Fingers carded softly through his hair. John hummed happily and leaned into the touch. He breathed deeply through his nose, intoxicating himself in a musky perfume. The strong scent made his head spin, but he couldn't bring himself to care. A strange fog-like euphoria seeped into his mind, evaporating all doubts and worries.

Forcing his abnormally heavy eyes open, he gazed up at the outline of a beautiful blonde woman stroking his hair. His immediate thought was Rose and he grinned to himself, letting his eyes drift closed again in pleasure.

"Mmm...Rose..." He purred, nuzzling into the silky fabric beneath his cheek.

The woman giggled sweetly. It was a nice sound, but something about it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

"Who is Rose?" The woman asked in a honeyed French accent. Her fingernail scraped down his sideburns and along his jaw. John's blood turned to ice.

He tried to sit up, and put as much distance between himself and the woman who was, decidedly, not Rose, but his mind remained hazy, like someone had draped gossamer over it. His limbs flailed and scrambled for purchase in his shock. He slid off the woman's lap and landed on the hard floor.

"Oh!" The woman gasped. "You poor thing, are you all right, my angel?" She quickly crouched down next to him in a flurry of gold silk and lace.

John rubbed his backside with a wince. "Oh, fine, fine. No harm done!"

He finally got a full look at the woman before him. She looked like she had stepped out of one of the portraits that adorned the walls. Her crystal blue eyes sparkled in the flickering light of an ornate fireplace. Her blonde hair was perfectly curled and pinned high on top of her head with jewelled combs. Nothing about this woman was out of place.

“I…I’m…” John floundered for words unable to tear his gaze away from this enchanting woman. In the back of his mind he knew something was off, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t put his finger on it. He inhaled deeply again to try and clear his head, but it only seemed to thicken the fog.

"You’re John,” she simpered, offering a delicate hand to help him up. “Most call me Madame, but you may call me Reinette. That is what my friends call me, and I think we are going to be very dear friends."

His hand remained in her grasp, but it didn’t feel right. It was cold to the touch, sending a further chill up his spine. The soft passes her fingers made on the inside of his wrist sobered him slightly, fanning away his daze.

“Where-where am I?” John slipped his fingers from hers and took in his surroundings.

Instead of saying anything, the woman, Reinette, offered a mysterious smile and gestured around.

It was as if everything had been made of gold: from the ornately carved canopy bed, to the flicking chandelier above them. Even the curtains and bed linens glittered with golden thread. It was a room fit for a king. His gaze returned to Reinette. Perhaps the room was more suited for a queen.

Out of everything in the room, John found himself drawn to the fireplace in front of him. Unlike the rest of the room, it was carved from smooth, white marble. Two semi-nude women flanked the sides, each clutching a swatch of stone fabric to their waist and bearing their breasts.

“Aphrodite,” Reinette said, her hand coming up to stroke the sculpture. She ran her hand across the top of the sculpture’s amble bosom. “Goddess of beauty and pleasure.”

Her fingers trailed off the marble and began to trace the back of John’s hand instead. “She was said to be so beautiful, even other gods feared her. I, for one, like to think she was the most powerful of them all.”

John gulped. “And what makes you say that?”

Reinette removed her hand from his in favour of sliding it up his arm as she circled behind him. John felt the heat of her body press against his back. “The ability to control another’s desires,” she murmured into his ear, her lips brushing the outer shell. “Do you not think that to be a powerful weapon to wield?”

As if her words were magic, a flicker of desire swept through John. Biting back a groan, he leaned into her as her lips traveled from his ear to his neck. His body was at war. None of this felt right, but he couldn’t explain why it also felt so good. Just as his eyes were about to drift closed again, he caught a glimpse of a tiny flower carved into the top of the fireplace. A rose. It was so small and delicate, it could easily be missed when compared to the rest of the carvings, in fact, it didn’t even look like it belonged with the rest of the ornamentation. He ran the tip of his finger over it and felt a sudden soothing warmth drape around him and push back at his discomfort.

_Rose._

“She was also the goddess of love,” John whispered, extracting himself from Reinette’s grasp.

“Love?” she scoffed in disbelief.

“Yes, love.” His voice growing stronger. “You know, when you feel like you’re floating, and you can’t stop smiling. You know you probably look foolish, but you can’t bring yourself to care, because she’s smiling back at you. Or you feel like anything is possible when you look into her eyes, because above all, you believe in her.”

Reinette laughed. It was an icy sound that chilled John to the bone. “Do not be ridiculous, my sweet, that is not love. Love is a childish fantasy. It is make-believe. It is not real. Passion. Desire. They are the true ruling forces in this world, and I think deep down you agree with me. I know you were enjoying what we started a moment ago. I could feel it…”

She crept back over to him and ran her hands up his chest, and for a brief second John felt the same jolt of arousal surge through him again, but the image of whiskey coloured eyes and a wide smile filled his mind.

 _“_ _I believe that you can do this, anything really, because I believe in you_. _”_

“No.” John lightly pushed Reinette off him. “Stop.”

She stared back at him with her bright blue eyes, and for a moment, John could have sworn he saw a spark of red.

“Is that want you want? What you really, truly, want?” She asked, her voice deceptively soft.

“Yes. Please. I just want to leave. I’m not even sure how I got here, and I need to find Ro-my way home.”

“My lonely angel, always searching for a home. A place to fit in. Do you honestly think you are going to find it with _her?_ A pathetic little scullery maid who does nothing but lie, cheat and steal.” Her voiced changed into something harsh and sinister. John tried to back up, but he hit the fireplace. The heat of the roaring flames licked the backs of his legs. He had nowhere to run.

“No. She’s nothing like that! She’s…She’s…” John struggled to find the words of what Rose meant to him. He wasn’t even completely sure who she was to him.

She was his Rose.

“She is nothing.” Reinette spat. “I tried to make this easy for you. I thought I would offer you a bit of fun, one last bit of pleasure, but no. You chose her. You want to do this the hard way? Fine with me. I believe your time has run out.”

With eyes of glowing red, she flashed him a twisted smile of sharp, pointed teeth before pushing him backwards through the fireplace.

John waited for the burning, for pain, but it never came. Instead, he felt nothing but calm and comfort. A gentle warmth caressed his skin and something cool beneath him tickled his fingers. He wiggled them experimentally. Grass. He inhaled deeply, dreading the smell of French perfume, but he was met with something softer. Something floral, but fruity as well. It was familiar. Taking a chance, he cracked an eye open.

He was no longer in the mysterious gilded boudoir, but a meadow of rolling scarlet grass hills. Sitting up, he blinked in the sunlight, then noticed the border of silver leafed trees that winked in the light. A cool breeze ruffled his hair and carried the muted melody of singing chimes.

“Gallifrey,” he whispered to himself. He was home.

No. He this couldn’t be home. Maybe it once was, but now it felt like something was missing…someone was missing.

A giggle from behind him pulled him from his thoughts. Following the sound, he turned to see Rose standing behind him.

“Hello, John,” she grinned.

“Rose,” he sighed, drinking in the sight of her draped in a flowing white dress with a pale blue sash. Bathed in the high sunlight of the late afternoon, she looked like an goddess.

“It’s about time, sleepy head! C’mon, I’ve got something to show you!”

Without a second thought, John hopped to his feet (which he noticed were bare) and took Rose’s proffered hand. He breathed a sigh of relief when her warm fingers laced with his.

“Everything all right, John?” Rose asked when he had done nothing but stare at their joined hands.

“Fine, fine! Everything’s fine! I just… Just happy you’re here, is all,” John assured her. She responded with gentle squeeze of his hand and a tongue touched grin that left him breathless.

“Well, come on then! We’re burning daylight!” With a tug, Rose led him through the meadow towards the horizon.

~*~

The black abyss before her had to be some sort of literary symbolism, Rose thought morosely. Dark, churning, a blurred line of sky, sea, and land; it summed up how she felt rather well, if a bit overdramatic. She sighed, inhaling the cold, salty air into her lungs.

She had let John get too close to her, and yet not close enough. She wanted nothing more than to just take his hand and run away, to fall into his open arms, to chase both of their fears and uncertainties away by simply pressing her lips to his, but this wasn’t a romance novel. There was a reason Gallifrey’s government had banned them: they were dangerous. They placed fanaticises in your head, they got your hopes up, they were a distraction from reality. And that’s exactly what John had gone and done.

Truth be told, the time she had spent with John had been one of the happiest times in her life. She felt different when she was with him. And she liked it! Like someone had draped a sun soaked blanked around her shoulders, and all she wanted was to absorb the warmth and comfort. From the moment she met him in the old palace, there had been a certain spark between them. She desperately tried to snuff it out, afraid of what it could turn into. But the closer she got to him, the harder it became. Despite her efforts, John seared his way into her heart and soul. And nothing terrified her more.

A fat drop of water landed on her cheek, followed by another on her shoulder, seeping through the thin lace of her sleeve. It was the only warning she got before the skies opened above her.

Drenched and shivering, Rose made her way back to the cabin. She knew sleep would probably evade her again, but she resolved to sort through her feelings for John instead. At least she would be warm and dry while doing it.

As she approached the cabin, she heard a faint whimpering and scratching coming from behind the door. Her heart rate spiked when she noticed it was slightly ajar.

~*~

“It’s just up over this hill!” Rose called over her shoulder.

John stumbled over a lifted rock, but quickly got to his feet and chased after Rose. He wasn’t sure what had her so excited, but it was contagious.

She stopped when she reached the top of the hill and looked out into the distance. John followed her line of sight to a gleaming white castle

“What is that place?”

“No idea!” Rose exclaimed gleefully.

“Want to get a closer look?”

“Better with two?” Rose reached down for his hand once more, twining their fingers together. Not for the first time, John felt a wave of comfort and love tug at his heart.

“Oh yes!”

~*~

"Tardis!" Rose whispered frantically when she saw a little black nose try to pry the door open further. As soon as Rose opened the door, the little ball of fluff scurried out and began to whine even further.

Rose knelt and allowed the pup to scuttle into her arms. There was no welcoming lick to her nose, nor was there a happy snuffle into the crook of her neck. Her first thought was that John hadn’t taken the poor thing for a bedtime wee, but Tardis’ urgency seemed indicate more than just the call of nature. Instead, her small body trembled violently with fear.

“What’s wrong, love?” Rose cooed gently. “What happened? C’mon, let’s get you tucked into a warm bed.”

She got to her feet with Tardis wrapped safely in her arms and turned to enter their cabin, but the dog began to squirm and try to wiggle free.

“What’s gotten into you?” Rose quickly shut the door behind her and looked at the creature in her arms with concern. She startled when she saw that the dog’s eyes almost seemed to glow in the near pitch-black of their room. It wasn’t like the bright glow of an electric light, it was softer; more like a flickering of a candle behind sheer curtains, or the faint smoulder of fading embers. The sight tugged at her heart and she was suddenly overcome with an onslaught of two conflicting emotions. The first was comfort. She felt safe. Protected. Loved.

The second was fear. Not for herself. Not even for Tardis. For someone else entirely.

“Tardis,” Rose hedged quietly, the uneasy feeling growing stronger. Her gaze shifted to the rumpled lower bunk. A very empty, rumpled lower bunk. “Tardis, where’s John?”

~*~

“Hello?” Rose sang into the vast front foyer. Her own echoing voice was the only response. Despite Rose’s voice being the more beautiful sound in existence, the echo was and eerie sound. It didn’t match the voice it repeated. It was a strange and haunting sound. A prickle of discomfort rose in the back of his mind.

“Looks like nobody’s home.” John looked around. He couldn’t help feeling like he was being watched. Tapestries and paintings decorated the walls, all in rich oranges and reds, but each of the images seemed to be warped or distorted, like an underdeveloped photograph. It was unsettling. He needed to ground himself. As if reading his mind, Rose grabbed his hand.

“Then I claim this castle in the name of Dame Rose Tyler and Prince Theta!” She announced stoically before breaking into a fit of giggles.

“If I’m a prince, why are you only a dame?” John asked thoughtfully, hoping this conversation was going where he thought it might be going. “You’re the one who discovered our lovely little abode.”

“Well, I just thought-”

John placed a silencing finger to her lips. “Every prince needs a princess. Besides, if anyone here is royalty, it’s you.”

Rose smiled around his finger, and, unless he was very much mistaken, placed a quick kiss to it before grabbing his hand and tearing off up the grand staircase.

~*~

“Jack! Jack wake up!” Rose hissed in the ear of her snoring friend. She attempted to shake him again, but it was no use. The empty bottle of hyper vodka he was curled around was an indication he would be down for the count until morning. She cursed under her breath and hopped down off the bunk ladder.

Suddenly, the ship pitched forcefully to the side, sending her face first into the cabin wall. The metallic tang of blood coated her tongue. Tardis whimpered in sympathy and scratched at the door again. She supposed she was fortunate enough to have a wall to break her fall, she couldn’t imagine what might happen to someone on the deck of the ship in a storm like this…

“John!”

Scrambling to her feet, Rose tore open the door and ran as fast as she could down the hall towards the stairs leading to the upper deck.

“Oh John, please don’t do anything stupid.”

~*~

 “Will you look at that view! Have you ever seen anything like it in your whole life?” Rose breathed in awe looking over the edge of the tower. The waves of the ocean crashed distantly below and silver leafed trees sang a quiet melody behind them. The white stone of the castle made it feel like they were on their own little cloud in the heavens, high above the world, high above problems. It was just John and Rose. Together. Just as it should be. And to John, that was the most beautiful view of them all.

“I can’t say that I have,” John croaked, his voice hoarse from a sudden onset of emotion. He tried to hide it, but Rose, his clever Rose, heard it. She turned to look at him.

“Hey…What is it? What’s wrong?” She cupped his cheek. Concern painted her beautiful features.

John sniffed loudly trying to get his emotions in check. “It’s nothing…it’s just…I just…”

“It’s just what? You know you can tell me anything, Theta.”

He sighed and tried to explain what he was feeling. “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can find the words. It’s sort of this...” he trailed off, frustrated at this own lack of explanation. He wasn’t even sure what it was himself, how was he supposed to be able to express something he was unsure of in actual words? And then there was that uneasy feeling again, pulsing in the back of his mind. It seemed to be growing stronger. It was a warning.

Rose led them over to a low wall and perched upon it. With her back to the sea, she pulled John to stand between her legs and entwined their hands together. “I think I know what you mean,” she giggled softly, pulling him even closer.

“You do?”

“Yeah, and I think this is one of those times where actions may speak louder than words.”

It was as if time had slowed down and John was watching the scene from above-Rose Tyler’s eyes fluttered shut, her dark lashes fanning out across her rosy cheek. Her lips parted slightly. She leaned in towards him until her breath tickled across his lips. All he had to do was tilt forward ever so slightly. And that’s just what he did, but instead of meeting a pair of soft, plump lips, he met nothing but cold air.

And then time seemed to stop entirely at the sound of a blood curdling scream.

John managed to open his eyes just in time to see Rose fall over the edge of the tower.

“ROSE!” he cried out as if that would bring her back.

Using a vine crawling up the wall, he hoisted himself up on the ledge to look down. Maybe she had managed to catch herself. Maybe the fall really wasn’t that far.

“It’s not the fall that will kill her, you know,” a cruel voice cackled casually from behind him. It sounded almost gleeful. Bile rose in John’s throat.  “It’s not even the sharp, twisted rocks that will surely slice her beautiful body to shreds. It’s not the ice-cold water that will rise and fill her lungs with foam. Oh no, Theta, that’s all on you. You’re the reason that she’s dead.”

John spun around to see who had spoken. Gone was their magical castle in the clouds- now a crumbling, grey ruin beneath his feet, cracking and splintering with every shift of his weight. The crystal blue sky was churning with black storm clouds, flashing wildly with blood-red lightning. The vast expanse above was ablaze. Cold wind whipped around him, tearing at his clothes. A man with hollowed cheeks and sunken eyes hidden behind a hood stood before him sneering.

“You killed her. You killed Rose Tyler. First your family and now the woman you love. Poor, poor, Theta.”

“No. No I didn’t…please. Please bring her back to me!” John begged, his eyes blurring with tears. The man merely laughed.

“You want her back? Go get her yourself.”

An unseen force began to tug him towards the edge of the now decaying castle. He tried to pull back, but he wasn’t strong enough. His fingers bit into the fraying vine, his last tether to solid ground.

 _Go down, go down, go down_. _Jump!_

“Rose…”

~*~

“JOHN! NO!” Rose watched John teeter on the railing of the ship, his grip slipping from the rope in his hand. She raced forward, and tugged as hard as she could on the sodden fabric of his nightclothes. He was mumbling something she couldn’t understand, but none of that mattered. She attempted to plant her feet on the wet deck of the ship, but it was the wood was far too slick. Without another moment to lose, Rose threw her arms around John’s legs and yanked them both crashing to the ground, knocking the wind out of her.

John continued to struggle, calling out hoarsely, “Please! No! Come back! Please! Rose! Don’t leave me…”

“John! John! Wake up! Wake up!” Rose held him securely against her chest while he thrashed about, a heartbreakingly painful expression on his face. After a moment, his eyes shot open. Panting, he looked around, clearly confused by his surroundings, and then his eyes found Rose’s. The raw look in his eyes was frightening. Not because Rose was afraid of John, but of what he had seen to cause that sort of terror.

“John?”

“Rose,” he breathed weakly, his fingers coming up to touch her face. His thumbs caressed the apples of her cheeks so delicately, it was almost as if he was afraid she would disappear in front of his eyes. An odd emotion flickered across his features. And then suddenly he was pressing his lips to hers. It was too quick for Rose to react, but she could taste the tears and desperation he left behind before he moved on to pepper further kisses to every inch he could reach from their awkward position.

“You’re alive! Oh, Rose, it’s all my fault. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry,” he pled frantically between kisses.

“Alive? All your fault-John what are you talking about?” The shock from the onslaught of kisses wore off at the ferocity in John’s voice.

“A castle…You fell…You were…Oh Rose..."

Unsure of what else to do, Rose pulled John into a hug while he wept her name over and over into her neck.

“It was just a nightmare, love. You’re all right now. You’re safe. I’ve got you,” she murmured into his hair.

The two of them sat huddled together on the deck of the ship until John’s sobs seemed to settle down. Once they did, Rose helped John to his feet and led him wordlessly back to their room.

They arrived back to a worried Tardis pacing the floor and a still snoring Jack. Tardis greeted Rose with a tail wag of gratitude and what seemed like a sigh of relief before she turned to John. She sniffed around his legs before placing her front paws on his knees. A request to be picked up.

“Told you I’d bring him home safe and sound,” Rose whispered to the little pup, scratching behind her ears before turning to light a candle.

The room was drafty, which was not a helping their already freezing state. Rose was about look for something dry to put on when she caught John violently shaking as he set Tardis down on the little chair.

Deciding her comfort level could wait a little while longer, Rose returned to John. His body was rigid and he looked forward without really seeing. It broke her heart to see the man she…cared deeply about in such a state. She stepped up to him and fiddled with the upper button of the nightshirt. John squeaked. It was the first sound he had made since they had returned. She pulled her hands back just enough so they were hovering over his chest. “Sorry, I was just trying…you’re shaking like a leaf, John. We need to get you in some dry clothes.”

Again, John remained silent, but gave a slight nod of permission. With shaking fingers, Rose eased the buttons through their holes.

“You’re trembling,” John rasped, his hands coming up to cup hers. They were far colder than she had imagined.

“I’ll be okay.” She offered him a weak smile that she knew John would see right through. She was properly freezing- chattering teeth, tremors up her spine, purple nails- _freezing_ , but John had been out in the storm for God knows how long, she needed to get him warm first. She needed to get him wrapped up in a soft blanket and never let him leave her sight again, she needed him safe, she needed _him_.

“Rose, your lips are turning blue.”

“I said I’m fine, John!” She half shouted when John tried to grab the blanket off the bed, presumably to wrap around her shoulders. “You, on the other hand, are not fine! What were you thinking? You’re soaked to the bone, freezing, you’ve got cuts on your hands, you tried to jump off the side of the ship! You could have died, John! You were a stupid, bloody idiot standing on the ledge of this stupid, bloody ship, in the middle of a stupid bloody storm, about to…to…”

The dam broke. All her emotions from the past few hours finally caught up and crashed through her like a train. She had almost lost John tonight. And that thought paralyzed her with a fear she had yet to experience. She knew one day he more than likely decide leave her, but she never wanted it to be like this. If she was truly being honest with herself, she never wanted him to leave at all. Her knees buckled beneath her, but before she could slump to the floor in a hysteric mess, two strong arms wrapped themselves around her.

“Shhh, I’ve got you.” John pressed a kiss to her hair while he rocked her gently from side to side. “I’ve got you, my precious girl.”

“I’m supposed to be looking after you,” Rose hiccupped with a watery laugh after her tears slowed and her breathing had returned to normal.

“Yeah, well tough.” John squeezed her tighter to his chest and that’s how they stayed until they couldn’t supress their shivers any longer.

“As nice as this is,” John’s voice shook in time with his body’s shudders. “I think we should revisit the whole putting on dry clothes option.”

Reluctantly, they pried themselves apart and searched for something that wasn’t soaking wet. Rose was still wearing her frilled dress from earlier in the evening, so she still had a pair of dry sleeping clothes waiting for her. John on the other hand had nothing. Without any other option, he began to pull on his original tattered suit. It reeked of soot, sweat, and dirt, but at least it was dry. He had the trousers halfway on when Rose stopped him by holding out a pair of men’s pajamas. They were made of buttery crimson silk with the initials ‘RTD’ embroidered in gold thread on the breast pocket. He traced the lettering, noting this probably wasn’t purchased at the same time as his new suit. In fact, it probably wasn’t purchased at all. He looked up at her with a smirk.

“Stands for….um…”

“Regal Tiger’s Delight?” John suggested with a shrug.

“I was gonna go with Riding The Dawn.”

“Roar of The Dragon?” John offered helpfully after Jack released a rather large snore.

Rose muffled a laugh into her hands while she thought of more expansions of the acronym, but John was far too good at coming up with new ones.

“Ring the Dinger! Rolling Through Desserts! Red Things are Dapper! Real Time Do-Gooders! Royal Twilight Dalliance! Ha!”

“Rose Tyler’s Dollymop!”

“Oi! Rude!” John spluttered. He struggled to find a new contribution to their little game. “Rude Thou…”

“Remember The Dancing?” Rose amended, looking up at John through her lashes.

“Oh, Rose Tyler! How could I forget,” he practically growled, making Rose shiver for a completely different reason. He took her hands and began to sway, humming the song they had waltzed to earlier in the evening. Rose couldn’t help but grin and hum right along. They continued their makeshift waltz until another tremor rocked through John.

“Erm, maybe you should…” Rose gestured to the pajamas and focused on turning the covers of her bed to give John some privacy. Without really thinking, she fluffed a second pillow next to hers and crawled over to the far side and waited.

Once John had discarded the sopping clothes into the wash basin and donned the new silky _RTD_ pajamas, he turned back to the bed. The sight that greeted him both thrilled and terrified him. A second pillow had been propped up against the head of the bed and the edge of the blanket had been left turned down in invitation (or so he dared to hope).

“I hope you don’t mind…I just thought…” Rose began. She picked at her nails. When John didn’t move, she backtracked. “Sorry, sorry that was- here you take the bed. You’re probably far more knackered and you’re the one that has to meet with Donna tomorrow.”

She moved to get up but John sat next to her. “Stay.”

“No, it’s okay. Jack’s coat is surprisingly comfortable when it needs to be. Just have to mind the various lumps and bumps that can prod you in the night, but I’ve almost perfected it.”

“No,” John swallowed hard before meeting her eyes. “I mean stay with me? If you want?”

His voice was so soft and tender. There was an unspoken vulnerability that passed between them. Each of them had bared a bit of their soul in the storm: their fears, their hopes. Emotions. So many emotions.  Both were raw and exposed. And both needed the other’s comfort more than they were prepared to admit. Rose smiled and nodded her head.

John blew out the candle and crawled in next to her. Unconsciously, their hands found each other in the dark. Rose wasn’t sure what compelled her to do so, chalk it up to heat of the moment, or maybe her true feelings were beginning to bubble through, but her lips and heart moved as one before her brain could catch up.

“Forever.”


End file.
